


Seeds of Time

by CatWinchester



Category: Henry IV Part 1 - Shakespeare, Henry IV Part 2 - Shakespeare, Henry V - Shakespeare, The Hollow Crown (2012), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatWinchester/pseuds/CatWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern woman, Meg Hunter, suddenly finds herself in the middle ages, homeless and penniless, unless the miscreant and flatterer she happened across deigns to help her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I have attempted to make the speech in keeping with the plays but still readable to today's audience. If you have difficulties reading or understanding it, let me know and I'll make it a little more modern. 
> 
> The Henry plays are not very factually accurate but mostly, I have gone with their events over the truth. 
> 
> I'm not entirely sure where this is going yet but I have a few ideas.

**Chapter One**

The room was empty of visitors and so after a quick glance to be sure she was alone, Meg dared to sit upon King Edward's Chair, also known as the coronation throne. Legend had it that chair, which had witnessed the coronation of every British monarch since 1308, would grant one wish to the worthy.

Meg didn’t have any specific wishes, she was happy with her life, imperfect though it was, but her thoughts drifted to Philip. She didn’t miss him but she did miss being in a relationship and in the beginning, it had been good.

Her thoughts distracted her from her wrongdoing and it was only the clattering of something from the next room that reminded her that she would be in trouble if caught. She practically ran from the room, almost as if afraid that anyone who happened upon her would see the misdemeanour written on her face.

In her haste, she didn’t notice that the Stone of Destiny, missing from the chair for 50 years since it was returned to the Scots, was back in its home below the seat.

As she ran out of the Abbey, she came upon a scene from the past; the streets thronged with people dressed in period costume and she smiled as she reasoned that in her haste, she must have left by a different door and happened upon a re-enactment.

She wandered around, looking at the stalls and people, taking the atmosphere in. Her garments were a little too new compared to what everyone else was wearing, but in a black maxi dress, a blue cardigan and her leather jacket, currently seated over her handbag, she didn’t look too out of place.

A man in red leather caught her eye as she walked and he winked at her. She returned his smile and he changed direction and walked beside her.

"Good Morrow, fair maiden.”

She decided to play along. “Good Morrow, kind Sir.”

“From whence has’t thou come?”

“Hammersmith.”

He frowned. “I do not know it.”

She smiled, for he must be joking. “Surely you jest.”

“I, jest!?” He sounded insulted but he was grinning. “Not I, by my faith. How dare you besmirch my good name.”

“Then I beg your pardon, sir.”

“And I will grant thou my pardon, just this once, if you provide me with your name.”

He was charming, she’d give him that.

“Meg,” she answered. “And you are?”

“Rarely does a gentlewoman give up her Christian name so easily, but I suppose it only fitting to reveal my own. Thou may call me Hal.”

“Then it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hal.” She gestured around her. “So what is all this?”

“Um, market stalls?” It sounded more like a question than an answer.

“And do they do this often?”

“Almost daily.”

She gave him an odd look, certain that they did not have these re-enactments every day.

“So, is there jousting later or something?”

“Uh, no, it is not a popular sport with my father.”

“So your father organised this, did he?” She assumed he organised the renaissance fair, or whatever this was.

“Um, well, I suppose in a manner of speaking. He certainly has responsibility for everything you see before you.”

He was such good company that she had hardly noticed as they walked from street to street, but eventually she began to realise that she had travelled a fair distance and when she turned back to see how far she was from the abbey, she felt the first pangs of disquiet. She should be in Parliament Square, or have passed through it by now, but she knew she hadn’t. Reasoning that perhaps she hadn’t gone as far as she thought, she turned to look at Westminster Palace, seeking Big Ben to better orientate herself, and her heart lurched.

It wasn’t there.

She turned about in a blind panic, wondering where she was.

“Meg? My lady?”

Now she thought of it, she hadn’t seen St Margaret’s Church either, so perhaps she was simply turned about and had exited the wrong side of the Abbey. She ran back and around the end of the Abbey and although the road was nothing like the St Margaret’s street she knew, she forced her worries down, certain that she had made some kind of mistake.

Her blood ran cold when she happened on another familiar building, Jewell Tower, one of the few buildings from the original Palace of Westminster that had survived the fire in the 1800s.

She stopped abruptly and stared at the stone structure, causing those behind her to knock into her and she fell to the ground, skinning her knees. 

“Meg!”

A chorus of insults and cries came from those behind her, either stopped or jostled by her abrupt halt.

“Meg.” Hal knelt down beside her and helped her to her feet and numbly, she allowed it. “Are you well?”

“I- I-” No, no she wasn’t well at all. She was hallucinating, she must be.

“Here, you dropped your bag and coat,” he said, putting her leather jacket around her shoulders then guiding her to the side of the street. “Now, tell me what ails you.”

“What year is it?”

He frowned at the peculiar question but answered her. “The year of our lord, 1412.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Is it honestly 1412 or is this part of some Renaissance fair?”

“Though some say tis rare, I speak the truth.”

She searched his eyes, looking for signs of deception but she could detect no hint of a lie.

“Why hast that turned thy countenance so ashen.”

She opened her mouth to reply but honestly, what could she say that he would believe?

Her knees stung and she lifted her skirt to see.

“You’re bleeding,” he noted.

“Not badly.” She took her bag back and hunted for a tissue, which she used to mop up the blood.

Passers-by stared to see a woman exposing her calves but seeing Prince Hal with her, they didn’t upbraid her.

Hal was puzzled by the curious woman and didn’t know what to make of her. She was beautiful, clean, she smelled of something floral yet delicate and her dress, while not that of a noble, was far better than the sirrah around them.

“I wonder, is there a boarding house somewhere near?” she asked.

“Of course. What price range?”

She cursed softly and he guessed that she didn’t have any money, despite her new and unusual garments.

“Were you hoping to work for your keep?” he asked.

She frowned for a moment. “I suppose I could, just until I find my way.”

“I know just the place.” He offered her his elbow and she slipped her arms into her coat and accepted. “I have a room there myself and if you were to offer me your services, I could grant you free room and board, for a while at least.”

“You mean, share your room?” she asked, sounding guarded.

“Yes. But if thou had no wish to serve only one, the tavern is full of men who will gladly partake of your services, and Mistress Quickley is always after reliable girls.”

She stopped walking and he had little choice but to stop too since she held his arm, and turn to face her.

“Let me get this straight, you think I’m a prostitute?” she disentangled her arm from his and he frowned at her question.

“A what?”

“A whore, a harlot, a woman of the night, a fallen woman!” she elaborated.

“Well, aren’t you?”

The hand that struck his cheek took him by surprise and worse, it stung. By the time he had his wits about him though, she was striding away, the crowd parting easily; most had witnessed her strike the prince and were unwilling to get involved in the conflict.

He strode after her but she was moving quickly and he lost her in the crowd. He continued to search for her although he was unsure why. He had nothing else to do today, other than to wait for Falstaff to appear at the inn some time this evening, full of lies about this morning’s robbery, but that didn’t explain why he was wasting his time chasing a wench who was no better than she ought to be.

She wasn’t easy to find and he was about to give up when he heard crying. Curiosity urged him into the stable whence it came and he found her, sitting on a hay bale, a strange object clutched in her hands.

He sat beside her in silence and looked at the object she held. It was a small square box but lit from within, and that light revealed writing on the screen.

“No signal,” she said, sniffing.

He didn’t know how to reply to that.

“I was supposed to me meeting a friend for coffee but I had time to spare and got there way too early, thinking I’d look around the abbey. She’ll wonder where I am. She’ll have to report me missing, and my family! Oh God, they’ll be so worried.”

“I’m sure there is a solution to thy problems.”

“Like becoming a prostitute?”

“My apologies. A woman alone with nice clothes but no money, I made assumptions.”

“I have money,” she answered. “It just isn’t any good here.”

She pulled her purse out and opened it, handing him notes and coins.

“Where are these from?” he asked, examining a coin.

“My home."

“Hammersmith?”

“Yes,” she answered with a sigh. 

“And these?” he looked at the notes.

“Paper money.

“I promise to pay the bearer on demand, twenty pounds sterling!” he was shocked and he leafed through the rest of the notes she had given him. “Thou hast enough here to employ at least a dozen for a year!”

“A pound is worth less where I’m from,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

He whistled. “Thy pound must be worth only a few pence here,” he answered.

She didn’t reply.

“This is not legal tender,” he answered, handing her the notes back. “Is this gold?” he showed her a pound coin.

“No. Its value is a pound but I’m not sure what it’s made of.”

“Dost thou have anything else you could trade or barter?”

“I have a two month old iPhone,” she showed him the slim box in her hand.

“I am afeard I know not what that is,” he said, taking it from her.

“No.” She sighed and he began to examine the device, turning it over.

“It’ll run out of battery soon anyway.”

“So, where are you from?” he asked.

“Hammersmith.”

“And where is that, exactly.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Hal sighed. “Then allow me to make reparations for my earlier offence. I will cover the cost of your rooms and board at the tavern, not with me,” he added when she turned to him, seemingly angry again, “for one month and hopefully in that time, you will have found a solution to your troubles.”

She considered his offer for a few moments. “No sexual favours owed?”

“By my troth.”

“Then I accept, but I’ll pay you back.”

He doubted it but he didn’t argue with her.

He didn’t know quite why, but he felt… something for her. It wasn’t quite a need to protect her, but it wasn’t just an attraction for her either.

“Come now, The Boar's Head isn’t luxury and you may have to fend off a few drunks as the night wears on, but it’s warm and the sack flows freely.”

“I think I can handle a few drunks.”

“Good.” He got to his feet and offered her his arm again and after a moment’s hesitation, she accepted.

***

It didn’t take Meg long to settle into the tavern, it was just a single room and she had no possessions, other than what she wore, or was in her handbag. Her room was next to Hal’s in the rear of the tavern, in what might once have been stables.

Chamber pots would take some getting used to but everyone here had been welcoming and just as Hal said, they didn’t ask awkward questions. It was clear that some were prostitutes but she wasn’t about to judge them for it.

Hal invited her to share diner with him in his room and the food was simple, rather bland but filling.

“Here,” he filled her goblet from a clay jug. “Have some sack.”

She sipped it and grimaced. “Ugh, sherry, I hate sherry.”

“There isn’t much else on offer here,” he said, seemingly amused by her distaste.

“Water?”

“Tis rather a dull tipple.”

“Do you have tea of coffee?”

“What are they?”

“An England without tea,” she murmured.

“I’m sure we can find something else. Ale, beer, cider, mead? If thou dislike strong drink, we can get thee a small beer.”

“I think I’ll stick with water.”

He called for Mistress Quickly and asked for some water, which she seemed surprised by but she sent a boy up with it nonetheless.

He smiled as she poured her sack into his cup and poured herself some water. She drank it down quickly and almost gagged.

“Ugh, that’s vile,” she said, taking his cup and drowning the taste of stagnant water (and a few other tastes that she didn’t want to think about) with the sack. Hal was grinning at her plight.

“Perhaps a small beer?”

“Cider?” she asked.

When it came, it wasn’t exactly what she was used to, but it didn’t taste too bad either.

When they were finished, he invited her downstairs and introduced her to a few of the regulars.

“I’d stay close if I were thee,” he told her. “A friend of mine is coming later and will spin such a tall tale, that it will amuse even those who do not know him.”

“Okay, I’ll hang around,” she assured him. She didn’t have anything better to do, after all. “Do you have any libraries around here?”

“I'm sure, but I doubt they would open them to thee.”

“Why not?”

“Because they do not know thee. I doubt I could even obtain entrance for thee into my father’s library.”

The penny dropped; no public libraries, only personal ones. She wondered when printing was invented, and what her chances were of finding a book seller, but since she had no money anyway, she didn’t say anything.

“Now, if thou shalt excuse me, I must to carouse with these tinkers a while.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “And thank you for your help today.”

“By my faith, twas my pleasure.”

The language of everyone here was archaic but she understood most of what was said to her and was able to converse with a few patrons. There only seemed to be a handful of women in the place, and all the others were servers or prostitutes. The men were all respectful to Meg for the moment though, and she hoped that didn’t change.

It wasn’t long until the laughter of Hal could be heard coming from the basement and he emerged a few minutes later, soaking wet.

She watched Hal and his friend teasing Francis, the server, and was amused until he offered the man a thousand pounds. Seeing the look of hope on the servers face, which Hal and his friend soon crushed, she thought his joke was rather cruel.

Not long after, his friend, Falstaff, arrived and she enjoyed his tall tale for a time too, until the insults began.

Hal really did have a rather sharp tongue on him, even if Falstaff seemed to deserve the ridicule.

The change in him when he heard that the Earl of Worcester was “stolen away” was odd, he almost seemed maudlin for a moment. She assumed that this Worcester was a friend, and that was why his being kidnapped upset him.

When the moment of quiet was over and the bar was thronged with people, all preparing for the play Falstaff suggested (Worcester obviously wasn’t that close a friend) she caught Poins arm.

“Who is Worcester?” she asked.

“A rebel who intends to unseat the king.”

“And he’s been kidnapped?”

“No,” Poins looked confused. “He’s left to raise an army.”

“Thank you.” She let him go. She wondered why Hal cared about the king but she soon had her answer when the play began, and she realised that Hal was a prince.

“Is he really a prince?” she asked of Dick, a server who was seated next to her in the audience.

“Aye, but he’s no proud jack, he’s a good boy.”

When Flastaff and Hal changed places, she had to admit, she felt a spark of attraction when Hal jumped from the floor onto the table.

His tongue was just as sharp as he insulted Falstaff while playing his father though.

Things became serious a few seconds later, and Meg wondered what she was missing. Clearly, there were hidden depths to this prince and he was more than just a party boy, and she found herself torn between curiosity for what they were, and fear of getting too close to him. She felt drawn to him but like a moth to a flame, she had feeling that she would get burnt if she got too close.

Besides, she still needed to find a way home and it wouldn’t do to forge too many relationships here.

Suddenly someone announced that the night watch were here and everyone began to scramble.

“What’s going on.” she asked Dick.

“Tis the sheriff, thou needs to hide.”

“But I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Aye, that’s as maybe, but everyone else in here probably has. Hide!”

She ran up the stairs with the others but found herself shut out of the rooms, so she opted to stand against the wall and watch the events below. Seeing Hal make out with Doll was… interesting, but she pushed her feelings of disquiet down. Hal meant nothing to her, so what did it matter if he slept with Doll. Honestly though, it seemed to be an act. And even if it wasn’t, Hal was nothing to her, so she had no right to be jealous. She _wasn’t_ jealous.

When Hal stood up, she saw her first glimpse of nobility in his countenance as he challenged the Sheriff.

While he and his friends rifled through Falstaff’s pockets, she marvelled at how he was able to change from happy go a lucky scamp, to a strong and regal prince, in a heartbeat.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about his friends robbing those people, and since he and Poins had robbed them, presumably Hal now had that money. He was a prince, so he didn’t need it, so why keep it?

The many facets of him could probably puzzle her for days, so she opted to ignore them and return to her room for the night.

***

The following morning, Hal awoke her by pounding on her door. She had slept clothed since it was so cold, so she didn’t have to worry about decency.

She opened the door and stood back for him to enter.

“I come bearing gifts,” he grinned.

“Oh?” Meg was wary.

“Quiet thy suspicions, woman, I have no ill intentions.”

“Do you have a toothbrush?” she asked.

“A tooth _brush_?” he laughed. “Thou comb your teeth, same as your hair?”

“Clean, not comb” she corrected with a smile. “We have small, soft brushes to clean our teeth.”

“Ah, well, that I do not have, but I did think of it.” He brandished a box, a bottle and a cloth. “The cloth to wipe, the lovage to chew and the wine to rinse.”

Well, it was better than nothing. “Thank you.”

He grinned. “Now, thy wardrobe is odd and makes thee stand out, so I procured thee some garments when I came from the palace. They shall mark you as a merchant’s daughter and no worse.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“Hush, I did so because I wished to. Now mark this, if thou wishes to procure anything in my absence, simply put it on my tab, Mistress Quickly will speak for thee.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Finally,” he handed her a large satchel which she opened to find books. “I hope you find something in there to your liking.”

“Thank you,” she smiled as she pulled a large book out. “It’s in Latin.”

“Most books are, but there is some Chaucer in there, in English, if thou canst not read Latin.”

“I can read it, I’m just rusty.” Meg leafed through the Latin book, a small smile on her lips. “This brings back my school days,” she told him.

“Thou went to school?” he laughed. “What a strange land you come from.”

“All children go to school where I come from, of both sexes, until age 16 at least.”

“Why?” he asked. “What use have the masses for education?”

“Because a country prospers better when the population is educated.”

“Even servants and peasants.”

“There are no peasants and very few servants.”

“Few servants? Who does the labour?”

“Machines mostly.”

“Machines?”

“Uh, tools that help us do tasks, so they require far fewer people.”

He nodded, although he didn’t appear to understand. How could he?

“And the royalty of this Hammersmith allow this schooling, do they?”

“Yes, although our parliament has far more power than our monarchy.”

“Thou harks from the strangest place. When I return from Shrewsbury, thou must tell me all about it.”

“I will.” ‘ _If I’m still here_ ,’ she added silently.

“Come through to the tavern once you’re dressed, they should have bread and sack to help break our fast.”

He turned to leave but Meg caught his sleeve. “How did things go with your father?”

He grinned. “My father and I are good friends once more.”

“Are you?”

His smile dimmed a little but he didn’t reply.

“What of the rebels,” she asked.

His smile left completely. “I away to battle shortly.”

Meg had been searching her memory for this time period but her knowledge of the middle ages was limited. She did know that Henry IV had deposed Richard II and she was fairly certain that one of Henry the fourths children would become Henry V, but was this him? They called him Hal and Harry, not Henry.

“What’s your full name?” she asked.

“Why? Does thou wish to see it on my headstone?”

“No!” she said with feeling. “Just curious.”

“Henry Plantagenet.”

She released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Hal was Henry V, which at least meant he would survive this battle.

Still, other than names and dates of significant events, she remembered little of this time period. He could have been badly hurt and she would not remember.

“Be careful, Hal,” she said with feeling.

“I have no plans to die,” he assured her in his usual cavalier attitude.  

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you can't be hurt.”

He smiled. “I’ll do my best. Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone, won’t you?”

“What trouble have I caused?” she demanded, although she was more amused than offended.

“Tis simply a reflection of my desire to return to you.”

She smiled and stepped closer to him then on impulse, she stretched forward and kissed his cheek.

It was meant to be quick, a playful peck of the kind she might give her brother, but this did not feel fraternal and she felt embarrassed as she unwillingly pulled away.

“What was that for?” he asked, a soft and genuine smile on his lips.

“A kiss for luck,” she answered. “It’s tradition where I come from.”

“A kiss for luck,” he repeated, as if sounding it out, the fingers of one hand grazing his cheek. “A strange tradition indeed, but undeniably pleasant.” His smile widened. “Farewell, fair Meg.”

“Goodbye, Hal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Hal put all thoughts of his new friend aside as he prepared for battle and Meg spent the next week trying to get home. She was refused entry to the abbey as at this point in history, it was still an abbey, rather than a Royal Peculiar and a tourist attraction and since it was a Benedictine monastery, they didn’t exactly welcome women.

She retreated to consider her options and, hoping that his hail fellow, well met attitude would hold and he wouldn’t be upset with her, she went into Hal’s room and borrowed one of his shirts, a pair of his trousers and a hat to hide her hair. Meg wasn’t particularly well endowed so with the loose shirt and her leather jacket over it, she looked fairly androgynous. Hiding her hair under the hat helped and with the judicious application of a little dirt and dust to her usually clean face, she managed to resemble a male youth.

Dressed as a boy she was able to obtain entry to the monastery but not to the chair, being escorted by a monk to the Abbot, who she had claimed to have a message for, and then escorted out. Learning to write with a quill and ink wasn’t easy but after a little practice, she managed. Unfortunately her 21st century spelling and syntax made the Abbot question if the message was really from Prince Hal. She bluffed, claiming that Hal had dictated the message to her and her English was poor, but she didn’t think he believed her.

If she could only reach the coronation throne, she was sure she could get home but when she tried the same ruse again, claiming to have another message for the Abbot, she was turned away and the monk took the parchment she clutched and closed the door in her face.

With little other option, she decided she’d have to break into the abbey overnight and gain access to the chair, while the monks slept. She spent three nights watching the comings and goings, noting when the final candles were snuffed out.

She slept late the following day, intending to break in that night. In truth she shouldn’t have waited that long but she was eager to hear if Hal was all right, so she made excuses that the punishments for theft (and especially stealing from a church) were grave, so she had to be extra careful to ensure that she wasn’t discovered. The fact she didn’t plan to steal anything wouldn’t be believed, so she had to be especially careful that she wasn’t caught before she could reach the chair.

She now spent most of her time dressed as a boy, so when Hal swaggered into the Hog’s Head to be greeted with cheers, he didn’t immediately recognise her.

She hadn’t meant to hug him, much less take a running jump but when he appeared before her, grinning and apparently healthy, instinct overcame her.

“How now, Sirrah, but I do not believe I am well acquainted enough with any boy to be met with such affection.” He said as she hung off him like fruit on a tree.

Meg didn’t release or answer him but continued to hold tightly.

Mistress Quickly cackled. “She’s no boy, my lord, that is your new friend, Lady Meg.” To prove her claim, she plucked the hat from Meg’s head, catching her hairband.

“Oww!” Meg cried as the elastic band was pulled out of her hair and her head was wrenched back. She released her hold on Hal and scratched her scalp where the hair had been pulled, snatching the hat back from Mistress Quickly.

“My lady, you make a very fetching boy,” Hal informed her, his eyes roaming over her figure and evidently enjoying this turn of events.

Meg looked him up and down. “You too,” she said.

“I am no boy,” he laughed with good humour at her jibe. “And are those not my garments?”

“I borrowed them, I hope you don’t mind?”

“If thou will tell me thy reasons for thy subterfuge, I am certain I can forgive thee.”

“It’s easier to move around as a man,” she shrugged as if it were obvious. In truth, a few patrons who knew her to be a women had got a little fresh with her, but they were usually drunk and she was well and to defend herself.

“But how are you? Are you hurt?” She had heard him groan when she hugged him.

“My shoulder and leg, though they are but flesh wounds.”

“Did you get them treated?”

“But of course,” he grinned. “Now enough of this fussing. We must celebrate!”

The others cheered and Meg smiled, feeling relieved that he was safe.

“My father thinks I am recovering in Windsor,” Hal whispered to her, “so I have nigh on two weeks to relax and recover.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“And thou art encourage-able. Come, drink, celebrate my victory.”

Her escapade could wait another night, she decided.  

***

Meg awoke late the next day to a slight headache, but nothing compared to what most of the tavern patrons would be feeling.

She expected to see Hal at breakfast but he wasn’t there.

“Has Hal gone out already?” she asked Francis.

“He is still abed, as far as I know, Miss.”

Meg checked her watch discreetly (there had been much interest in such a small clock when she first arrived, so she had learned to hide it).

“That’s not like him,” she said to herself, a little concerned as she continued eating her bread. Breakfast here was bread or toast with sack or ale. Meg opted for bread and dripping and watered down cider (just enough to hide the awful taste of the water).

When Hal hadn’t shown by the time she was finished, she made her way to his room and knocked.

“Hal?” she called when she received no answer.

It was quite possible he had a whore in there with him, and she had no desire to see him and his lady friend naked.

“Hal? Are you in there?”

She thought she heard a moan and was tempted to leave him to his hangover and lady friend but something stopped her and opening the door an inch, she peered in.

“Hal?”

The groan came again but it was definitely not pleasurable this time. She opened the door and found Hal lying on his bed, covered in sweat and mumbling in some kind of fevered delirium.

“Shit,” she said, approaching and placing a hand on his forehead. He was burning up, dangerously so.

It appeared he slept nude so she pulled the blanket off his torso to see his shoulder wound, but it seemed to be healing nicely, even without stitches. She pulled the blanket off completely to examine his leg wound, keeping her eyes averted from… distractions, and found his thigh wound badly infected.

“Bollocks,” she cursed, considering her best course of action.

Antibiotics would take at least a week to make, although better to have three, but the biggest danger was heatstroke from his temperature, which would carry him off before the infection could.

Paracetamol could be made in a couple of hours however, and that would bring his temperature down enough to allow his body to fight the infection, assuming she could find the right ingredients.

“Francis! Francis!” she called as she hunted for Hal’s purse.

She faintly heard his call of “Anon, anon, Miss!”

She found the purse with his clothes and took a few coins from it, only just remembering to cover Hal up as she heard Francis approach.

“Yes, Miss?”

“I need you to watch over the prince and bathe him in cold water.”

“Shall I call for a physician, Miss?”

Who knew what barbarity they would inflict upon him?

“No, I will go and get what he needs, but you must keep him cool and bathe him regularly.” She opened the windows.

“Should I build a fire?”

“NO!” She yelled. “Keep him cool. If I get back here and find you’ve tried to sweat this out of him, I’ll swing for you myself. Do you understand?”

“Y- yes, miss.”

“Good.” She twisted her hair up into a bun, wrapped her hairband around it and crammed the hat on top. “I may be some time, just remember what I said, keep him cool.”

“Yes, Miss.”

She ran out, heading to the apothecary.

***

It had been a long time since she made paracetamol at school and this time, it was far harder, as the ingredients weren’t readily available, prepared and only needing to be measured out.

The phenol and nitrophenols she was able to extract from coal tar, the sulphuric acid was available as oil of vitriol and luckily, sodium nitrate, or salt, was easy to find in any time. With the help of the apothecary, whom she had bribed to help her, it still took her six hours to manufacture the drug, and it was far from as pure as she might wish. She had done her best to filter out the impurities though, and was confident that this wouldn’t harm him.

She ran back to the Hog’s Head and barrelled into Hal's room, only to find a man standing over him with a knife and a bowl, a fire burning in the grate and judging from a bowl filled with bile, poor Hal had been sick.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Attempting to rebalance the humours,” he answered.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Francis tried to explain. “Mistress Quickly insisted we inform the palace and they sent for him.”

“Step away from him right now,” she said to the doctor, opening the windows once more to allow a breeze through.

“Young man, I must rebalance the humours. We have already made him vomit and emptied the bladder, now we must sweat him and let some blood so-”

“Step away!” she said, grabbing Hal’s dagger and pointing it at him. “You’re lucky if you haven’t killed him already and I will not allow you to do further damage. Get out and don’t come back.”

Luckily the doctor seemed to be of a cowardly disposition because although it was blatantly obvious she didn’t know how to wield a blade, he and Francis backed out of the room. Meg slammed the door closed after them and threw the bolt across. She heard voices out there for a while but they soon left.

“Humours indeed,” she muttered as she tipped some water onto the fire, leaving enough to bathe him with. She left the candles lit though, since it was growing dark now.

There was a jug of sack in the room and she got the small box which contained the paracetamol powder out, then mixed some with the sack to make it palatable. Besides, alcohol acted as a vasodilator and sent the blood to the skin, which would help to cool him down.

“Hal,” she called, pulling the blankets off him and mopping his brow with one. “Hal, can you drink?”

He murmured but seemed to be incomprehensible.

With some effort, she lifted him up in the bed and held his head up with one hand while she gently tipped the sack and power into his mouth. He swallowed, which was a good sign, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. The pills would take perhaps half an hour to start have an effect, and then she needed to see about the infection.

While the wound site was hot, there didn’t seem to be any puss to release. She opened the door and called for Francis.

“Anon, anon, miss!”

He appeared a few moments later.

“I’m sorry, Miss, I had no choice.”

“Forget that now,” she dismissed his arguments. “I need you to find me all the mouldy bread and apples that you can, the mouldier the better.”

“Miss?”

“Please, Francis, just do it. And we need more water and sack when you have a moment.”

“Yes, Miss.” He shuffled off and Meg used the remaining water to bath Hal, who thanks to the doctor’s sweating him, was beginning to smell a little rank.

Francis came first with more water and sack, and Meg covered Hal with a blanket as she heard him running down the corridor. She fished a coin out and gave it to him, hoping that it would incentivise him to do his best to procure the mould.

He ran off again and Meg bolted the door, afraid that the palace would try and take Hal away and give him back to the butcher masquerading as a doctor. By the time Meg had finished washing Hal, he began to rouse.

“Hey,” she sat beside him and took his hand, while pressing her other hand to his forehead. He felt cooler already. “How do you feel?”

“Whatever mischief I got into last night, it was not worth it,” he said, sounding horse and weak.

“You’re not hungover,” she said. “Your leg wound became infected.”

“And thou hast been nursing me?” He smiled but it was a pale reflection of his usual smile.

“Actually, I left Francis to tend you for most of the day,” she teased.

“Thou art heartless and unduly cruel to me.”

“At least you still have a sense of humour,” she smiled.

“And is that to be wished for?”

“Put it this way, it’s better than sleep and delirium. I need to see your leg.”

Hal lifted his blanket and peered below.

“Thou has been attending to me all day while I am as bare as a newborn? By my troth, it’s enough to make even one such as I, blush.”

She got up and poured him a cup of watered down sack. “Drink up, it’ll help spare your blushes,” she joked.

She lifted the blanked only high enough to see the thigh wound.

“How do I fare?”

“As long as your temperature doesn’t get too high again, you should be okay. I’ll make you some penicillin tea to help you fight the infection, it’s not as good as pure penicillin but that would take me at least a week to make. And I have a powder you must take every six hours, which will keep your temperature down and ease some of the aches.”

“Wilt thou nurse me back to health, fair Meg?”

She realised that she hadn’t even thought of returning home today. “I’ll stay a little longer,” she informed him. “I can't leave you to the mercies of that doctor until you’re recovered. I think he almost killed you earlier.”

“I would my lady would take me with you*, what is a doctor?” [*I wish my lady would help me understand]

“It’s what we call a physician.”

“Thou seems to be playing physician thyself, no?”

“I’m not a doctor or physician,”

“Where didst thou learn how to treat the infirm?”

“I’m a science correspondent for Modern Science Magazine.”

“Thou claims to be a scientist now?”

“I claim a lot that you would think strange, Hal, but yes, I have a masters in Biology, although I don’t work as a scientist. Basically I take research papers and distil them down into layman’s terms”

“What strange tales thou do tell, my Meg.”

“Tales or not, my understanding of nature and the body is not in question.”

“I believe thee.” He said, closing his eyes.

“Yeah, right. Finish that drink before you go back to sleep,” she ordered. “You need to keep hydrated.”

“That sounds painful.”

She laughed. “It isn’t. Now empty the cup or I’ll tip it down your throat.”

“Thou art more familiar with me than my dog.”

“You don’t have a dog.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve never seen you with one. Now rest. I’ll wake you when the tea is ready.”

Francis bustled along the corridor soon after and knocked on the door.

“Miss, I have your bread and mould.”

“Thank you,” she told him. “Now might I have some boiling water, a kettle, something to stir with and some honey?”

“Yes, Miss.” He scurried off and Meg took a seat by the window and with Hal’s knife. She sorted through the fruit and bread, shaving the blue-green mould off.

Francis returned with the water, honey and the kettle, although it was a cooking pot, not a kettle as she was used to. The water was still steaming hot and once she had locked Francis out, she added the water and mouldy skins to the kettle, stirring to free the antibiotic chemicals from the mould, then she left it to stew and cool while she continued preparing the fruit. She’d have to make the brew daily as, if left to sit too long, it could breed pathogens and become harmful.

Once the mixture had cooled a little, she added honey to taste, then filled a cup and approached Hal. Shaking his shoulder to wake him.

“I need you to drink this,” she told him as his eyes opened.

“Prithee peace, chewet*, leave me to rest.” [*please be quiet, you chatterbox]

“This will help you fight the infection in your leg.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a broth made from penicillium.”

“Which is what?”

“When you’re better, I’ll explain everything if you want but for now, just trust it will help you.”

He still looked unsure as he sniffed the contents of the cup.

“Look.” She downed its contents. It wasn’t pleasant but it wasn’t as unpleasant as she feared either. “See, harmless but helpful.” She filled the cup again and returned to him. “Drink.”

He did so.

“It tastes like very weak cider.”

“It’s made from apples,” she said, leaving off the mouldy part of that description. “Now you can sleep again, and I swear I will be as quiet as a church mouse.”

She returned to her chair by the window and for the first time since this morning, she relaxed, so much so that she even began to doze off.

***

Meg was rudely awakened by a pounding at the door.

“We are the Royal Guard, sent to retrieve the Prince of Wales. Open up before we kick the door down!”

Hal was stirring on the bed. “What the devil is that noise?”

“They’re here to take you away, Hal.” She explained. “I kicked the doctor out when I found him making you sick and trying to give you hyperthermia. I think he went to the palace and called the guard to get me away from you.”

He sat up in bed and nodded his understanding. “Let them in.” he told her, just as someone pounded again.

“Just a second,” she called.

She pulled the bolt back and opened the door, only to find herself nearly flattened as they forced it wide.

“What is the meaning of this?” Hal demanded.

The doctor bustled into the room along with the soldiers and Meg retreated to the end of the bed.

“That boy did threaten me this evening, my Lord,” the doctor said, pointing at Meg, “and chased me from thy bedside with a dagger.”

Hal met Meg’s eyes and she could swear she saw amusement in his countenance.

“By my faith, he was following my instruction,” Hal replied.

“But my Lord was insensible,” the doctor insisted.

“Aye, and earlier I did instruct him on how to proceed. As thou canst see, I am much improved.”

A guard stepped forward. “My Lord, who is this fellow?” he pointed as Meg.

“Why, the boy is my page.”

“And he was obeying your orders?”

“That he was and thanks to the physician, he failed, I would cudgel the jack [beat the bastard] were I feeling more myself. Now let’s hear no more of this, I need peace and must insist thou do away.”

“Apologies, my Lord. We will away to the castle and inform your family that you are recovering well.”

“If they do not know, do not add my condition to their burdens.”

“By my troth, my Lord, if they are unaware, I shall not reveal your sickness.”

“Then I am indebted to you.” On order from the head guard, the others filed out, save for the doctor.

“I see my treatment worked,” he said to Hal.

“Farewell, sir.” Hal’s tone brooked no further argument.

The doctor shuffled out, clearly disgruntled but unwilling to argue with the prince.

Meg let out a breath when the door closed and her posture sagged.

“Why so frightened?” Hal asked her.

“I did threaten him with a knife, I thought they might arrest me.” She took her watch out and saw that he needed another dose of paracetamol, which she went to prepare.

“You believe in your treatment enough to risk imprisonment?”

“I believed his treatment was wrong enough to risk it. I genuinely thought he might kill you.”

Hal smiled and watched as she opened a small box and tipped a little powder to a mug, adding some sack to it.

“Here,” she said, swirling the contents of the mug. “It tastes foul but this will keep your temperature down and sooth your aches.”

He accepted it, then after a sniff, tossed it back in one go.

“Can you eat?” she asked.

“Should we not starve a fever?”

“No, your body needs nutrients to heal from the damage the infections is doing. Not to mention that if you want to keep taking the powder, you need protein.”

“Protein? Thou speaks most strangely.”

“To my ear, you are the strange one,” she smiled. “So will you eat something?”

“A little, if I must.”

“I’ll be back shortly.”

Hal took the opportunity to pull a shirt and some trousers on, then used the chamber pot before he helped himself to the jug of sack in the room. He felt exhausted and lightheaded even after that minimal effort but considering how awful he had felt this morning, his recovery was miraculous. He might almost think Meg some kind of witch, were he inclined to believe in such superstitions.  

He sat at the small table and, pulling back kerchief back that covered it, stirred the contents of the kettle, grimacing when he saw the mouldy fruit.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she chastised him when she returned with two bowels of stew.

“Are thou trying to poison me?” he demanded.

“No,” she smiled. “That is what’s responsible for making you feel better. We call them antibiotics.”

“Tis mould.”

She passed him a bowl and got a kerchief from her pocket and unwrapped fresh bread and spoons from it.

“Art thou not going to enlighten me on why thou art feeding me old fruit?” He took the spoon from her but he wasn’t inclined to eat until she explained herself.

“Where I’m from, we’ve discovered that things which can cause infection not only attack us, they attack each other. This mould, called penicillium, produces a chemical that’s harmful to most infections.”

“Does this ‘ _chemical_ ’ not harm me?”

“A few people, are allergic to it. One in ten, on average, but the reactions are generally mild. Considering that you have few allergies in this time, I took a risk that you wouldn’t be allergic. Besides, any allergy to the tea would not be as severe as with pure penicillin but although better at fighting off infection, it would take me too long to manufacture that.”

“How did you learn of this?”

“In school, although I confess while I knew the theory, this is my first time making antibiotics.”

He began to eat, satisfied with her answer, even if he didn’t quite understand it.

“Where _are_ you from?” he asked seriously.

“I told you, Hammersmith.”

“But where is that? What land is this Hammersmith in?”

She considered lying, saying the Americas but she doubted Hal knew of that continent yet and besides, she wasn’t prone to lying.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I’m still fevered,” he replied. “I am likely to believe any tale you tell me now, more than at any other time.”

She put her spoon down.

“Promise you won’t have me committed or arrested or anything?”

“By my troth.”

She licked her lips, pressed them together then meeting his eye said, “I’m from the future.”

“The future?” Hal had learned to read people well and as far as he could see, she wasn’t lying, but perhaps she was plagued with madness. He considered how best to reply and decided to play along. “When, exactly?”

“2015.”

“The year of our lord, two thousand and fifteen?”

She nodded.

“Six hundred years?”

She nodded again.

“Canst thou prove it?”

“I have some things in my bag that might.”

“Then fetch it.”

“Once you eat up,” she pointed to his bowl. “If you don’t eat, it will take you longer to heal.”

“Very well, then thou will fetch this bag and show me the future.”

She nodded her agreement and he wondered that there was no fear of discovery in her eyes. She believed what she said, now it only remained to see why.

They ate in silence until Hal could stomach no more and pushed his bowl away. She didn’t chide him to eat more so he presumed she was happy.

“Now, fetch thy bag, woman.” He ordered once she had finished.

She nodded and left the room while Hal called someone to clear the plates and bring more sack, as well as cider for Meg.

He still felt weary but the sack was helping buoy his spirits.

“You should have some more of the tea before long,” Meg said as she returned.

“I will afore bed. Now show me thy proof, I shall not be put off any longer.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap last chapter: She licked her lips, pressed them together then meeting his eye said, “I’m from the future.”
> 
> “The future?” Hal had learned to read people well and as far as he could see, she wasn’t lying, but perhaps she was plagued with madness. He considered how best to reply and decided to play along. “When, exactly?”
> 
> “2015.”
> 
> “The year of our lord, two thousand and fifteen?”
> 
> She nodded.
> 
> “Six hundred years?”
> 
> She nodded again.
> 
> “Canst thou prove it?”

**Chapter Three**

Meg reached into her pocket first and handed him a watch.

“Have you ever seen a clock so small?” she asked.

“I have not,” he admitted, observing it closely enough that he could hear it tick. “The small strap and buckle?”

“To attach it to a wrist.”

He nodded. “What else have you?”

She reached into her bag and pulled out her purse, handing him a ten pound note again. “Have you ever seen printing so fine?”

“It might not be printing, it might be done by hand.”

“Compare them, then tell me they aren’t printed.” She handed him another note. “Then pour water on them and rub, the ink still won’t run.”

“Whose image is this?”

“Queen Elizabeth the second.”

“No wonder you allow women to be schooled, with a queen for a monarch.”

“Women were being schooled long before she came to the throne. But yes, we do believe in equal rights, and that given half a chance, women are just as capable as men.”

He looked from the note to Meg.

“Turn it over, you’ll see a gentleman from history, well, history to us.”

“Charles Darwin.”

“He came up with the theory of evolution. Does it have a date?”

“1809 to 1882.” He looked at the notes for a few more minutes, then placed them on the table. “What else?”

She pulled the strange, flat box out of the bag and after she pressed the top, the screen lit up. “It takes a few moments to warm up,” she explained. “This device does everything, well, it does a lot. It allows us to talk with anyone else who has a similar device, to search the internet, which is like an archive of knowledge. It stores and plays music and books, videos, all sorts. And it takes photos.”

“Photos? Videos?”

“Photographs are like electronic, instant paintings, and videos are moving paintings.”

“Show me.”

The phone beeped to say it was ready, then Meg began to navigate the menus. “We’ll start with pictures. Say cheese!”

He frowned and she took a picture, blinking as the flash blinded him for a moment.

“What the devil was that!”

“An electric light, so pictures taken in the low light are still visible.” She showed him the phone and he saw an image of himself, almost the same as that which was reflected back at him in a mirror.

“I look different.”

“Because you’ve only seen your reflection, where your features are reversed. This is how other people see you.”

She moved around the table and, putting her head next to his, took a selfie of them together, then showed him the image.

“Amazing. And the music you spoke of?” he asked as she sat back down.

Meg opted to play him something classical, presuming that he probably wouldn’t enjoy Eminem or Bruno Mars.

She turned the sound down a little, unwilling to lose any more battery than necessary. Her phone was her biggest reminder of home.

“That’s beautiful,” he said. “What is it?”

“They call it Air on a G-string. I’m not sure of its proper name, but it was written by Bach.”

“And you carry that wonder around in your hand?”

“We have other devices like this, but they are larger and not as easy to carry around.” She pulled a letter from her bag, a reminder to get her car tax. At least she had done that a few days before this happened, so her car wouldn’t be impounded in her absence. “See, it’s printed in colour and note the date.”

“January, 2015,” he said softly.

Air on a G-String ended and the next song on the playlist began. “This is Nimrod, by Edward Elgar… Actually, you might like this,” she skipped to the next song. “It’s called Zadok the Priest, by Handel, and it’s been played at all of our coronations since the 18th century.”

Hal sat back and contemplated the music and indeed, the woman before him. She had ample evidence to back up her claim, but was she really from the future?

Could these objects not be from a different land, rather than an unknown time?

“How do you come to be here?” he asked.

“That, I’m not so sure about,” she answered. “I was meeting with a friend and I had spare time, so I decided to go early and visit the Abbey, it’s a tourist destination now, saved for royal weddings and notable funerals. It’s not allowed but I sat in King Edward's Chair and I know I shouldn’t have but… I don’t know why I did it to be honest, I’m not normally a rule breaker. Anyway, I sat there for a few moments, then I was disturbed and I ran out of the abbey, afraid of being caught and the next thing I knew, I was here and a moment after that, I saw you. I thought it was a re-enactment at first but then I noticed that the landmarks around me had changed, and I panicked.”

“Where were you running?”

“I thought that perhaps I had been turned around, then I saw the Jewell tower and I realised I hadn’t; Big Ben was gone.”

“Big Ben?”

“The palace of Westminster burned down in the 1830s and the replacement has a huge clock tower that we call it Big Ben.”

“So thou came here through a house of God?” he demanded.

“Well… in a manner of speaking.”

“Then we must assume that thy presence here is God’s will.”

“Are you suggesting I stay?”

“I think you must.”

“No,” she stood up so suddenly her chair clattered to the floor. “I have a life, a family!” she scrolled through the pictures on her phone then brandished it at him. “Look, that’s my brother and sister, they’ll be so worried! And I have a house, and bills that need paying, and a job to go to. People depend on me, I can't stay here, Hal.”

“I think you must.”

“No, I need to get back into the abbey and to that chair, once I get back there, I’m sure I can go home.” She couldn’t countenance the idea of not being able to go home.

“God does not allow mistakes, Meg, if he brought you here, it was for a reason.”

“But don’t you see, if I stay here, I’ll change history! Oh god,” she covered her mouth. “What if I’ve already changed history? What if you were supposed to die here? No, no, wait… Henry the fifth died in France.” She sighed in relief.

“But thou thought me dying earlier today.”

She turned to look at him. “I must have been wrong. His treatment was dangerous but obviously, you survived it. I shouldn’t have tried to intervene.”

“Or, thy presence here was always supposed to be, so thou hast not changed anything because you are already a part of thy history.”

“I think I would remember if history mentioned someone called Margaret Hunter, don’t you?”

“Is that your full name?”

She didn’t realise she hadn’t told him. “Yes.”

“It suits you well. Margaret is a lovely name for a lovely woman, and Hunter conveys strength.”

“Thank you, but I prefer Meg.”

“Pray tell me, given thy desire to go home, why hast thou not returned to the abbey whilst I was away?”

“Because they wouldn’t let a woman in, so I borrowed some of your clothes and dressed as a boy, I pretended I had a message for the Abbot from you.”

“What was the message?” he asked.

“That you asked for the monk’s prayers for the upcoming battle.”

“And what happened?”

“I was escorted to and from the Abbots quarters and when I tried to wander off, I was caught before I got five meters away.”

“Meters?”

“A meter is about a yard.”

He nodded. “And have you made no more plans?”

“I was watching the abbey at night to see what time they went to sleep. I was planning on breaking in on the night you returned.”

“Why do you not go tonight?”

“Because there’ll be no one to make you drink the antibiotic tea.”

 “You would give up your chance to return for me?”

“The chair will still be there so I haven’t given up anything, and I would do it to save anyone’s life.”

“Hmm,” he murmured.

Feeling uncomfortable, Meg pulled the cloth back from the broth she made earlier.

“Drink,” she commanded.

Hal finished his tankard of sack and refilled it with the broth from the kettle, drinking it down in one go.

“How does your society know so much,” he asked. His desirous gaze unnerved her, but maybe his eyes were not hooded with lust, but lethargy.

“Science, I suppose. Each generation builds on the knowledge of the previous, and we’ve had 600 years.”

He was still observing her with his unnerving expression.

“You should rest,” she told him.

“I’ll make thee a bargain, Margaret Hunter.”

“Oh?”

“My father is sick. Once I am recovered, wouldst thou visit my father with me and see if thou can discern what ails him? For my part in return, that I shall escort thee to the abbey myself, and no one would dare stop me.”

She considered for a moment.

“You need not fear arrest or imprisonment if you go in  my company,” he continued to persuade her. “And you may greatly aid the king, perhaps even save his life also, and it is always prudent to have a monarch in thy debt.”

“Fine,” she agreed. “But I can’t make any promises; even if I can tell what’s wrong with him, there’s no saying the treatment would be available in this time.”

“Understood.”

“Now you need to rest and I need to check your leg before you do.”

“Thou means to make me blush before the day is ended. I fear my illness will ruin your good name.”

Meg laughed. “I don’t see why seeing your thigh should ruin my reputation, when I have two of my own to gaze on at my leisure. By that logic, everyone must be ruined the first time they look down. But if it spares your blushes,” she said, teased him, “I’ll turn my back while you undress.”

Hal chuckled but removed his trousers and climbed into bed, although he left this shirt on for now.

“I cannot claim to be decent, but I am ready.”

She turned back and leaning over, placed her hand over his wound.

“It feels cooler already,” she answered. “It looks like the tea is working. You must keep taking it four times a day, for five days though, if you stop before then, the infection could return.”

She moved to stand up but he grabbed her hand.

 “Thank you,” he said with sincerity.

“You’re welcome.” She pulled the blanket down to cover his legs and up to his chest. “I’ll make you a fresh batch of tea tomorrow morning, I’d hate to save you, only to kill you with botulism or something.”

“Botulism?”

“A very nasty bacteria. Don’t worry though, the microbes are anaerobic, it can’t grow in the tea.”

“It is as though thou were speaking in another tongue.”

She smiled. “Sleep well, Hal.”

“I have a feeling that will not be a problem, by my troth, I’m exceeding weary.” He closed his eyes and on impulse, she bent over and placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Goodnight.”

Standing, she went back to the chair by the table and sat down, unwilling to leave him alone just yet.

***

Meg awoke in the morning to find herself slumped over the table and with a lot of stiffness as she sat up and stretched out her aches.

“That is positively indecent,” she heard Hal say, and turned to see him looking over at her.

“Are you okay?”

“I have had hangovers more debilitating than this, although I still feel most weary.” 

“I’ll get some water to make some more tea and see if I can get you some eggs or something with breakfast.”

She mixed some more paracetamol power with last night’s sack for him, then took the kettle as she went to request more water and a clean kettle. He watched with interest as she added new mouldy apple peelings, mouldy bread and honey.

By mid-morning she was feeling lethargic from her lack of sleep, and Hal insisted she return to her room and at least nap for a while.

She didn’t sleep for long and when she awoke, he was in his room, drinking with Poins. She left them to it and took the chance for a walk and some fresh air, not that the air was that fresh in town but she got to stretch her legs.

Hal improved a little more that day and by the following day, he was almost back to normal, although she insisted he continue taking tea. His leg wound was also much improved and no longer hot to the touch, although it was still red and angry. She cleaned it daily with alcohol and was confident that the danger had passed.

He questioned her endlessly on what life was like in her time, and she answered him as patiently and thoroughly as she could.

They ventured out onto the tavern floor on the third evening but while he enjoyed himself, Hal was easily tired. The next night he was almost himself once more but he did not seem to take the same pleasure in Falstaff’s company, although he still enjoyed Poins, and enjoyed watching the two of them banter.

Meg left them to it, sure that Hal must be sick of her company, and went to talk with some of the other patrons.

That night the tavern had music though and Hal sought her out and pulled her up to dance, despite her protestations that he should rest. She wasn’t sure what kind of dancing it was, but it was energetic and fun.

He seemed glued to her side for the rest of the night and as the music slowed to background music, he pulled her to a quiet corner.

“We can have some privacy to dance here,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around her.

They didn’t dance so much as sway gently to the music and with her heart beating a mile a minute and her stomach fluttering with nerves, Meg felt very much like a teenager dancing with her crush at the school disco.

“I should very much like to kiss you, sweet Meg, but I am a feared thou might strike me again.”  

She smiled.

“You can kiss me because you like me,” she assured him. “But try to pay me for it and I’ll knee you in the family jewels.”

“Feisty,” he laughed. “I like that about thee.”

Growing a little impatient, she stretched up and kissed him, although it was little more than a peck.

“How forward thou art,” he said warmly, dipping his head to claim her lips again. She closed her eyes and gave up the pretence of dancing, content to lose herself in his attentions for a while.

She knew that she shouldn’t get too close to him, that she was in very great danger of loving him but after such a fun evening, and her thinking hampered by the cider, she couldn’t think of a single reason not to enjoy this.

He deepened the kiss as his hands began to roam her back and she returned his ardour until finally they parted, both breathless even though they had been standing still.

“Let’s go back to my room,” she suggested.

He raised his eyebrow in question.

“Yes, I mean sex.”

“I would not seek to ruin thee,” he said seriously.

“You won’t,” she assured him. “My society doesn’t judge women on the state of her maidenhead. Much. Come on.” She took his hand and led him back to her room.

“Are you sure,” he said as she bolted her door.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She had a hormone implant with two years to go before it ran out and given that he’d had a week of antibiotics, she could trust that he was probably disease free.

They quickly divested each other of their clothes, then she pushed him on the bed and straddled him. He seemed shocked when she crawled down his body and took him in her mouth, although his protests were quickly silenced and his hand came to rest on her head, although he applied no pressure. He came quickly and with some surprise, she realised that she was the more experienced of them.

“What was that?” Hal asked as she moved to snuggle into his side for the moment.

“A blow job.”

“There didn’t seem to be much blowing.”

She laughed. “No one’s ever done that for you before?”

“No. Is it to forestall pregnancy?”

“No, we have other ways to stop that. We do it because it feels nice.”

“Thou must live in very different times,” he told her.

“We do,” she assured him, rising her head off his chest. “And you can go down on me too.”

He frowned in confusion.

“Lick and suck my sex.”

He looked surprised but not distasteful.

“And this replaces sex?”

“No,” she laughed. “Just enhances it. Believe me, I still intend to have that cock in me, once you’ve recovered.”

“I shall endeavour to do my best, my lady,” he said with a chuckle. “And in the meantime, I have not much experience pleasing women in such ways, so perhaps thou will show me how to please thee?”

“If you want.”

He suddenly flipped her onto her back and she laughed in surprise. He began by imitating her, kissing and licking as he slowly moved down, paying particular attention to her breasts and nipples.

Once he was settled between her legs, he began licking het slit and she decided to explain a few things.

“This is the clitoris,” she showed him. “It’s as sensitive as a man’s cock so tease it as you’d want your cock teased.”

He did, showing quite an aptitude by licking and sucking, changing his pace and seemingly making note of what actions she enjoyed more than others.

“Put your fingers inside me,” she said as her climax approached.

He slid two fingers in her channel and without her needing to say, moved them in time with the ministrations of his tongue, so it didn’t take long until she came, his name on her lips.

“I need you to fuck me, Hal.” She called.

Even if he didn’t know the word, he seemed to understand her meaning as he moved up her body and she took his length and place it at her entrance. He slid home a moment later, stretching her wide and making her cry out.

“Art thou hurt?” he demanded.

“No. No, keep going,” she urged, and he did, thrusting into her. “Harder,” she told him. “Harder,” until he was pounding her into the thin mattress.

His lips claimed hers and her hands roamed the planes of his back, clawing and scratching at him. He pulled out a moment later.

“No, I want you inside me,” she urged.

He seemed surprised but didn’t question it and after a few moments to resume his pace, he spilled his seed inside her.

“Thou art like a wild animal between the sheets,” he panted.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Twas meant as such,” he assured her, rolling off. “Come hither,” he said, gathering her against him.

He began to run his fingers through her hair and she felt like putrring with contentment. Once he had recovered himself a little, he began to question her.

“I take it that carnal knowledge is not considered sinful where thou hails from?”

“No. Making love is beautiful and a way to increase intimacy. Even the church has relaxed its stance.”

“The church? That surprises me greatly.”

“If God made us, he made sex pleasurable so that we could enjoy it,” she explained. “There’s nothing sinful in doing what our bodies were designed to do.”

“Thou may have a point.”

A few seconds later, Hal yawned.

“Looks like I’ve worn you out,” she said as she raised her head and smiled at him. “You should sleep, you’re still recovering.”

“I’m not sure I want this night to end.”

She laughed. “Flatterer.”

He pressed her head back onto his chest. “Take thyne own advice and sleep, good woman. We can converse in the morning.”

***

On the fifth day of his recovery, Hal ran into Poins, who invited him to the baths.

His conscience told him to return to the castle, but he needed a bath and besides, he had missed his friend. Meg seemed happy for him to go, stating that she had missed baths and couldn’t begrudge him. He gave her some coins and he and Poins delivered her to the women’s baths, so that she might indulge herself. They offered to collect her but it seems that while he was away at Shrewsbury, she had become quite well acquainted with London and insisted she could find her own way home.

He ignored the fact that he missed Meg while away from her, for she was leaving soon and missing her would be something he had no choice but to endure. He did so enjoy her company though, for she was sweet, and kind, and interesting; full with opinions, knowledge and questions. She showed him none of the deference his rank required. He enjoyed the fact that Falstaff and the other tavern patrons treated him almost like one of them, but they still revered him to a degree.

Not her though. Unlike Falstaff, she did not abuse him or take his name in vain, backtracking when caught out. Nor did she agree with him mindlessly, as Poins often did, and she did not shower him with hollow praise or press gifts into his hands, hoping to be in his good graces, as many did.

If she crossed him, she had her reasons for doing so and she stood fast behind her words. It also seemed to be for his own benefit, rather than hers. She cared for him. Him, not the prince, not the future king, not the merrymaker, _him_.

He had never had someone befriend him solely for who he was, as opposed to what he was.

He liked it. A lot.

But he had made her a promise to see her returned home and while he may have many faults, he would not break his bond.

He had been thinking a lot about duty recently, knowing that his father was ailing and his country needed him. He needed to stop drinking, to leave this place and these people behind. But when he had the idea to spy on Falstaff, he couldn’t turn the thought away, for here was a way to enjoy himself without indulging in sack, women or licentious behaviour.

Only the antic did not have the same draw as it once has. It wasn’t as fun to hear his friend dispraise him, not as it had once been, when he had been carefree and careless.

When Peto entered with news that his father was at Westminster, and that messengers from the north had come and trouble was brewing, he felt guilty at leaving his father to bear the burden, especially when he was unwell.

He bid Falstaff goodnight, possibly for the last time as his old friend would away to war soon, and left to find Meg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: To anyone who told me that they’re enjoying this, thank you, you have no idea how inspiring your words are.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Meg was reading in her room when Hal entered and insisted they leave for Westminster castle and visit his father, advising her to pack as he didn’t intend to stay here any longer.

“You’re moving back?” she asked.

“My father is gravely sick, so ‘tis time I threw off this loose behaviour.”

“Is that why you’ve been drinking less?” she asked.

“In part.”

“And here I thought you were taking my advice,” she teased. “Surely I won’t be welcome at the castle though?”

He hesitated as he considered her words. “Perhaps not,” he admitted.

“You don’t need to look so guilty, Hal. As soon as I’ve diagnosed your father, I’ll be returning home anyway.”

Hal nodded thoughtfully. “Then let us away, I shall send a servant for my belongings.”

Westminster was very different from the place she remembered, and a reminder that this was not where she belonged. Sometimes while in Hal’s company, she almost felt at home.

She followed meekly behind him, playing the part of a page boy.

“Warwick, this boy is apprentice to an acclaimed physician from the north,” Hal explained to one of Father’s advisers. “He comes to examine my father, see if he or his master can discern the malady which consumes him.”

“Why does the physician himself not come?”

“He is too old to travel far, thus the boy goes in his stead.”

Warwick nodded his acceptance of the lie.

“How doth the king?” Hal asked.

“He ails terribly. I fear this malady will be the end of him.”

“If I may?” Meg stepped forward and looked at Warwick. “What are his symptoms?”

“Symptoms?”

“How does the illness present?”

“Do thou not wish to examine the king?”

“Eventually, but first I want to ask what the signs are.”

“His skin suffers disfigurement and his body on occasion.”

After a lot of prompting, she understood that the king often seemed unsteady, prone to bouts of paralysis, was unsteady on his feet on occasion, and then he would take between minutes and hours to recover. There seemed no rhyme or reason to the onset of attacks, although they were becoming more frequent.

“How is his memory?”

“It fails a little,” John admitted. “More as time goes on.”

She then went into see the king and examine him. He had recently had an attack and was tired and not very responsive, but she couldn’t find any causes for his symptoms.

She looked for the most common causes of dizziness, such as an ear infection, questioned his diet in case it was low blood sugar, checked his pulse in case his heartbeat was uneven but she found nothing. It could still be a heart condition, she could not diagnose a mild heart attack without modern machinery, but there was little point focusing on what she couldn’t prove.

When she had exhausted all the options she could think of, she nodded to Hal, who led her from the room.

“So?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The skin condition is psoriasis, it isn’t fatal, just uncomfortable, and it isn’t causing his fainting spells.”

“Can this psoriasis be treated?”

“It can be managed but not cured. Exfoliate the skin with a salt scrub then rub the dry skin and sores with emollients or oils to help ease them. I think the best cure is vitamin D though. The best way to get that is exposure to the sun, but it’s a little chilly for sunbathing. It can also be found in oily fish, like salmon and mackerel, or milk and dairy products, so I recommend putting more of them in his diet. One of the best sources is cod liver oil with one table spoon having something like three times the daily allowance. If you have much cod on hand, boil the bodies up, let it cool, scoop the oil off the top and give him a little each day.”

“I’ll look into it,” Hal nodded his understanding. “What of the apoplexy?” Hal asked.

“I don’t know. Perhaps if I could see him have one of these attacks myself, I might know, but the symptoms I’ve been told are quite general and have a lot of possible causes.”

“Then will thou stay a few days and see if thy cannot witness and name this ailment?”

She had been looking forward to going home, but she had been here two weeks already, what would a day or two more matter? Besides, it was probably too late to return home tonight, she’d find herself locked in the church or something.

“Okay, but I’ll need to stay close so that I can observe the next attack.”

“I will have rooms readied. Dost thou wish any belongings brought here from the tavern?”

“Only my handbag but I don’t want anyone else going through that and finding the, uh, odd things in there. And I might need to borrow a new shirt while I wash this one.”

“I can furnish thee with more male garments,” he assured her. “Now come, you may stay in my page’s room this evening, although I hope thou might share my bed once more.”

“Of course.” How could she leave him to sleep alone when his father was so unwell?

***

Meg slept better than she had since she arrived here, in the prince’s comfortable and warm bed, with its feather stuffed mattress and thick blankets. Clearly the only way to live well in this time, was to be wealthy.

She was allowed to stay in the Kings room for most of the day, everyone apparently either believing Hal’s story that she was an apprentice physician, or unwilling to call him on his lie. Hal had returned for her handbag that morning and brought the volume of Chaucer he had loaned her, so she sat by the window to read for the hours that the King spent in bed.

Hal didn’t return for most of the day, occupied with matters of state, which surprised her a little, but it was good to see him taking up the mantle of Prince.

Of course, she worried about him, so soon after his own illness.

Yesterday was the first day he hadn’t taken the antibiotic broth and, as nice as it was to have a proper bath, she had spent the day worrying that he would relapsed. Of course, that was hardly likely to in the space of a few hours, but she had worried nonetheless, and she had realised that she had come to care for him far more than was healthy, and she would miss him dreadfully when she left.

Far more even than any of her boyfriends.

Even today when she was sure he had recovered, she missed his company.

‘ _Am I in love_ ,’ she wondered, but quickly pushed such thoughts aside, unwilling to admit it even if it was true.

The king roused himself late in the morning and she was able to question him more on his illness but wasn’t able to clarify much.

She followed him as he attended his duties and she observed for herself how frail he seemed. Many times he appeared absent or forgetful but it wasn’t until Westmoreland arrived with news that they had been victorious against Northumberland’s rebels again, and when he collapsed soon after, she knew.

It was epilepsy.

His followers called it apoplexy and that wasn’t too far off, considering how primitive medicine was in this time.

Having her answer, she left to find Hal and explain it to him. She found him in parliament hall, examining documents, and looking scholarly and regal as he stood there, quill in hand.

He smiled when he saw her but it faded when he noted her expression.

“Meg?”

“I know what’s wrong with your father,” she told him.

“Pray tell.”

“I saw him have what I think is a myoclonic seizure, and I think the times he appears not to hear are absent seizures. They’re both of a condition called epilepsy; it’s a problem in the brain and there is no cure for it.”

“Is there nothing that can be done for him?”

“In my time, there are drugs to manage the condition but I can't make them.”

“Can thou not try? Thou brewed a potion for me, did thou not?”

“Because penicillin is naturally occurring, but I’m not a chemist, Hal. The only drug I can remember which is used to treat it is phenobarbital. It’s one of the oldest and hardly used any more but even that, I wouldn’t know where to start to try and synthesise it.”

“How long does he have?”

“I don’t know, Hal. Epilepsy affects the brain and- and-” she wondered how to explain it to him in terms he might understand. “The brain malfunctions, but there are half a dozen or so different kinds of seizures, some more dangerous than others. With time the attacks might be predictable and if we kept a diary, we might be able to identify triggers but left untreated, it causes irreversible brain damage which can increase the likelihood of attacks. His next attack could be fatal or his fiftieth, but from what people describe, they do seem to be increasing in frequency.”

“You seem worried.”

“He looks very frail, Hal. I can’t promise anything but honestly, I don’t think he’ll last very much longer.”

“Hours, days, weeks?”

“There’s no way to tell.”

Hal turned away from her and looked out of the window, his shoulders slumped. Judging from his sniffs. He was crying, so she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry, Hal.”

“Tis not thy fault.” He stood tall. “I shall go to him. Where is he?”

“Resting.”

He looked torn for a moment.

“Go, Hal. I’m sure seeing you will make him happy.”

“I do not know if that be true.”

“I’m sure it is. Go and see him, Hal, you may regret it if you don’t.”

He nodded. “Will you be all right alone?”

Meg nodded and he left.

***

Hal returned to his room, his heart broken but he was pleased he had been able to talk with his father one last time before he died.

He found Meg sitting on his bed and as soon as he entered, she went to him, enveloping him in an embrace and guiding him over to the bed, where she held him while he cried.

***

She knew she should return home but Hal was floundering in his new role and she felt honour bound to try and help. Besides, she needed his help to return home and it seemed inhuman to ask him to help her leave him, so she kept her own council and watched as Hal tried to cope with the loss of his father and his new duties as monarch. She tried to help him in any way she could, reassuring him when he felt unworthy, comforting him when he was sad and advising him when he worried that he would not be taken seriously

She shared his bed each night, comforting him with her love.

She was unable to watch his coronation, but she was there to see the procession from the abbey. She watched as he upbraided Falstaff and from her position in the crowd, she could see the tears in his eyes as he turned away. As unhealthy as their friendship had been, Hal had a genuine affection for the old man.

Meg couldn’t help but admire his strength to turn them away, for he couldn’t be a good king in the company of such men, no matter how much he liked them.

Over the next few weeks, he assembled his own court around him, his oldest brother, John, York, Salisbury, Westmorland and Exeter chief among them. He asked her opinion on many matters but she didn’t know if he ever took her advice for as a woman, she couldn’t attend those sessions and dressed as a page boy cum servant, she wasn’t welcome at them either.

He began his rule making peace with his father’s enemies, restoring estates to those his father had stripped, giving them responsibility and thus, royal trust, thereby making peace with his father’s adversaries.

Meg still dressed as a boy and if anyone wondered why the physicians apprentice was now his page, no one said anything, or at least, not to her.

When he began making plans to leave for Kenilworth Castle, she decided that she had done as much as she could for him and could delay no longer. She was surprised to realise that she had been here for just over two months. Her family were going to kill her.

“Hal?” she said as they lay in bed together, both spent and relaxed.

“What is it, my dearest Meg?”

Her head lay on his chest, while his hand played with a strand of her hair.

“I… I think it’s time I returned home.”

His hand stilled a moment but that was the only reaction he gave that he had heard her.

“Hal?”

“Given thy silence, I presumed thou had decided to stay with me.” His voice was heavy with sadness and she raised her head and turned to look at him.

“Oh, Hal, I can’t. I’ve been away from my life for too long as it is.”

“Does thou care nothing for me, fair Meg?”

Tears stung her eyes as she looked at him. “How can you ask me that? You know how much I care about you.”

“Not enough to stay with me.”

“Hal, it isn’t that simple. I have a life back home, a family. And what of history? I have stayed her too long already, who knows what I might have changed in my time, and the longer I stay, the more damage I might do.”

“God brought you here, Meg, and he means for you to be here. Who is to say that your presence here will not improve things?”

“We can't know that.”

“I do not know it, but I trust in God, Meg, and I trust that he brought you to me for a reason.”

“What am I to do here? Spend the rest of my days dressed as a boy and pretending to be your page? That’s no life, Hal.”

“I have been examining the family tree,” he said, which confused her. “I thought to introduce you to court as Margaret Plantagenet, illegitimate daughter of Humphrey Plantagenet, son of Thomas of Woodstock, who was himself son of Edward III. In secret, I will settle a small fortune on thee and thus give you independent means. Thou could dress as a woman once more and given your noble blood and fortune, be accepted.”

“Someone will notice I’m a fake.”

“How?” He turned onto his side and resting his head on his hand so they were facing each other, and she mirrored his posture. “Your manners are impeccable and whilst thy manner of speech is odd, thou does not have a low born accent, and we can excuse your unusual language as your mother being foreign.”

“All someone has to do is ask this Humphry if he has a daughter, and the game is up.”

“He died some dozen years ago, dearest, and illegitimate children often remain unknown for years. We shall say your mother was Venetian and daughter of a minor aristocrat and thus being foreign and of no importance, no one shall question it.”

“And what will I do here?” she asked, because reading every day while Hal worked was becoming tedious.

“I am having a room prepared in the Pleasance at Kenilworth, where thou can work in peace as a scientist.” He took her hand. “Both thy council to me and thy affection for me, are invaluable and the country shall suffer for it should thou should leave.”

She felt torn between following her head and her heart.

“I give you my word, dear heart, I will love and protect you for the rest of my days. So what say you, darling Meg, wilt thou remain here with me?”

“Do you love me?” she asked.

“How could thou believe otherwise? I could not lay with thee like this if I did not.”

“I love you too,” she smiled.

“Then stay with me.”

After only a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “I will.”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you.”

***

Before they left for Kenilworth, Meg journeyed into London one morning, dressed as a page, then at the Hog’s Head she changed into the ladies clothes that Hal had originally furnished her with, then she visited a dressmaker to have quality gowns made.

She repeated this a few times until she had five full garments. Outer garments tended not to be washed, only the undergarments, those worn next to the skin, so these outfits would suffice for quite a while. She missed the versatility of her wardrobe back home but the clothes weren’t too bad.

She also bought boots and other personal effects fitting of a moderately wealthy woman. A few days before Hal was to leave for Kenilworth, she spent the night in the Hog’s Head and the following afternoon, she rode up to Westminster on the horse that Hal had purchased a horse for her. She was not a natural rider but Hal had given her lessons while she was dressed as a page and her voluminous skirts allowed her to ride astride, as a man would. The saddles were not what she was used to seeing, looking more like a cowboy’s saddle in a western, than a show jumping or racing saddle.

Hal had left word to expect her and she was escorted through the castle and told to wait outside the throne room until called in. She sat down and waited for nearly half an hour, and she wished she had her kindle with her but finally, she was escorted into the throne room to meet her ‘cousin’.

“Your majesty,” she said as she kneeled before the throne until Hal bid her to rise and approach.

“I have read thy correspondence with interest, Lady Hunter. Perhaps thou wouldst repeat thy claims for the benefit of my court.”

“My name is Margaret Hunter and I was born out of wedlock to Humphrey Plantagenet, the son of Thomas of Woodstock, who was son to Edward III.”

“And what is your business here?”

“My mother and grandparents are deceased, I never knew my father and since I have no family left in my native Venice, I have decided to make myself known to my English cousins.”

“Canst thou prove thy claims of royal decent?” 

“My mother gave me a letter from my father,” she said, holding it up, “proving their relationship and that he knew he had born a child by her.”

Hal gestured to Exeter to take the letter.

“And what are thy hopes from this meeting?”

“Kin only, my Lord. My grandfather was greatly shamed by my mother’s actions and I was raised in relative isolation with her. Now she and they are gone and I have no protector.”

“And why did thou not seek a closer branch of thy family?”

“Forgive me, my lord, but I know not the intricacies of your family tree. If thou would direct me to a closer branch of it, I will gladly befriend them.”

“Fear not, my lady,” Hal offered her a slight smile. “You are welcome here.”

She was surprised by his regal attitude since while pretending to be his page, she only saw him in idle times. He was every inch a king though, and she felt rather turned on by his bearing. It also somewhat explained his tendency to be more dominant in the bedroom, she was the teacher no longer and hadn’t been for a while. The beard he had grown also gave him the appearance of being older and wiser.

“I shall have thee shown to quarters whilst we debate a while, and determine the truth of this missive.” Hal gestured to the letter Exeter held.

“Thank you, my lord.”

She left the hall and there was a servant waiting to take her to her rooms. She wasn’t surprised to realise she had been housed near the King, so much the better to sneak into his rooms at night.

She and Hal had never spoken of marriage and in truth, it wasn’t something she’d ever given serious thought to back home. She supposed she just hadn’t met the right man.

Despite knowing Hal for only a few months though, her thoughts were already turning to marriage more and more often. It didn’t help that she was getting tired of all the secrecy and she hoped that one day soon he might, as they said in times gone past, make an honest woman of her. Given all the sneaking around, it was a fitting turn of phrase for her situation.

Her bags were already unpacked, so after exploring, she took a book out and sat down to read.

***

“Cousin Exeter, what make you of the letter?” Hal asked.

“It appears to be a love letter between the parties mentioned.”

“Is there a wax seal?”

“Indeed there is, mostly intact.”

“Then compare it to our copy of his family’s seal and we shall have our answer.”

“And if it is genuine?” Exeter asked.

“We are a Christian court, so we will take her in as one of us and act as her protectors. Perhaps in time she will find a way to repay our kindness, perhaps not but either way, we will have done our duty.” Hal looked to York to see if he agreed.

“She seems most pleasant and will be a welcome addition to your court, Sire.”

Hal allowed himself a smile. “Do we yet have any word from France?”

“Our emissary arrived in France last night and is journeying to Paris as we speak.”

“Keep me informed. I am eager to hear of their reply.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Hal looked to the window. “The day is still bright. Perhaps I should offer our new cousin a ride about the countryside. If she is a good horsewoman, perhaps she may hunt with us at Pleasance.”

“Tis prudent to judge her skills on horseback,” York noted. “For if she is unskilled, the journey to Kenilworth shall be most arduous.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Although she was a decent rider, the journey to Kenilworth was indeed arduous for Meg. 100 miles on horseback? She wasn’t sure her thighs would ever meet again. If that was not enough indignity, once at the castle she then had to endure a rowboat ride across the mere, to get to his retreat, named the Plesance on the Marsh. Here he had total privacy, he told her, for while it was a banqueting house, the difficulty in reaching it ensured solitude from all those but the expressly invited.

It was a two storey, four sided, wattle and daub building, with a central garden, and she loved it on sight.

Hal had readied a work room for her and as promised, it was furnished with apothecary apparatus which she could use to conduct experiments and manufacture drugs, for while she was not a chemist, she was sure she could learn to make a few helpful things. One of the first things she did was to begin growing cultures of penicillin. After two weeks, the mould could be filtered out and the liquid suspension that the mould had grown on could be dried into a powder.

She was also trying to produce gunpowder, which was ridiculously easy to make, requiring only sulphur, charcoal, and saltpetre. It could then be fashioned into grenades or petards, which might be useful in his war with France. She also recalled Greek fire, which was some kind of oily gunpower made with pitch (she thought) and useful for burning villages to the ground since it clung to whatever structures it hit and being an oil fire, couldn’t be put out with water. She was sure that with enough time, she could fashion something similar, and for the hundredth time since she arrived here, she wished she’d studied chemistry rather than biology.

Considering that Hal could no longer use marriage to Catherine to make a treaty with France, she felt that helping him in some small way, was the least she could do.

She did worry that her intervention might change things though. Luckily, she could remember few details of his battles to be able to tell him anything which might alter his actions on the day, but everyone knew of his victory at the Battle of Agincourt. Was it possible that in trying to help, she could do something that might negate that victory?

She would vow not to tell him of the gun powder until after he returned from his first foray into France, so that she could be sure he would be successful.

Then the next moment she would argue herself out of that resolve, since his victory might be even easier with grenades, and what if just by knowing him, she had already somehow changed how he might behave on the battlefield?

She left her lab, as she called it (although it paled in comparison to her old university laboratory) in the afternoons to meet with Hal and today they walked in the grounds for a while.

“How dost thou like Pleasance?” he asked as they strolled arm in arm around one of the diamond moats. Given how remote this place was, Hal felt free to be open in his affection with her, so they didn’t have to hide their relationship for while there were servants here, he knew they could be trusted.

“It’s beautiful,” she said and in the warm June sun, it was one of the prettiest places she had ever seen.

“And thy homesickness?”

“Is easing,” she assured him, resting her head on his shoulder. “As much as I miss my time, everything there was so rushed. I had literally every labour saving device you could ask for, from a dishwasher, to a phone, email, a car, yet I was always rushing, never enough time in the day to get everything done. Here, as much as the difficulties frustrate me sometimes, I’ve had to learn to relax, and I think I like it.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Thou hast seemed happier since we arrived here.”

“I think the lab had something to do with it,” she admitted. “It’s nice to be able to do something useful.”

“How goes the penny-cillen?”

She smiled at his pronunciation. “Well. The first batch is finished and for the second, the cultures have been growing for 13 days, tomorrow I’ll filter the liquid, then evaporate the water off and turn it into a powder.”

When she looked at him, he was smiling at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing, simply the look on thy face when you discuss your experiments. It makes thou appear even more fair, if that were possible.”

She blushed.

“I still marvel that given your loose ways, I can still make thee blush.”

She frowned. “Are you calling me easy?”

“Oh no, not I. I well remember the first time I impugned thy virtue.” He rubbed the cheek she had struck.

She laughed. He made a few comments like that but she hoped it was just because he was Roman Catholic, which was a somewhat prudish religion even in her time, and not because he truly didn’t respect her.

“York is in residence at the castle and will join us for supper this evening,” he told her. “I hope thou hast no objections.”

“No, I like him.”

“He is good company.”

“Sometimes I think he suspects that I’m more than your cousin.”

“I do not believe tis so but he will likely realise one day soon, for York is no fool. Rest assured however, he will not question me on this.”

“No?”

“No. He is too good a friend to reproach me.”

“That’s good, I suppose.”

“Indeed.”

***

Meals with the King were far better than those the tavern had served. Tonight was chicken in ale broth with strawberry pudding for desert. Hal had explained that for a banquet, the meals would be far grander, sometimes consisting of 12 courses but Hal had simple tastes, especially when here, at his retreat.

York was also an unpretentious man and seemed happy with this simple fare.

They were disturbed in the middle of dinner by a messenger with a letter for Hal, who took it and returned to the table.

“It’s from our emissary in France,” Hal said as he read. “Sent the night he arrived at Louvre Palace and presented our demands to the King.”

“They will have answered already,” York noted.

“Indeed and if luck is with us, we shall hear their reply soon, although I have grave doubts that they have replied in our favour.”

York nodded in agreement. “But they may yet agree to your primary demand, betrothal to Princess Catherine.”

Meg felt her blood run cold. Marriage to Catherine? He still planned that?

“Our spies tells us that the Dauphin is not the Kings true son and most likely, is the bastard son of the King’s brother-in-law, the Duke of Orléans,” York continued, “so marriage to Catherine, his true heir, could make thy claim to the throne stronger.”

Meg’s food turned to ash in her mouth and she gulped her wine in an attempt to swallow it down.

“This is hardly a fit discussion for the dinner table,” Hal said, with a note of warning in his voice. “We shall discuss the implications when we have an answer.”

Meg wanted to hit him again, to scratch his face and scream at him. Her pride wouldn’t allow that though, she couldn’t let York see how hurt she was, it was too humiliating.

She didn’t participate much in the conversation after that, although she saw Hal looking at her frequently.

He knew she’d heard, and he must know that she was fuming. Well, he was about to learn that 21st century women didn’t put up with the crap that 15th century women did.

She drank perhaps a little more wine that was good for her but she was so hurt that it was almost painful to breathe, and the wine eased that sharp and bitter pain a little.

She sat politely until York left, luckily not too late as he had to row back to the castle, and she sat there waiting for Hal to speak first.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” she asked.

“That you had to hear that.”

Not that he had done it, she noticed. She got up from the table and left the room, her temper a hair’s breadth from exploding.

“Meg, come hither, let me explain,” he said, following her as she made her way to her bedroom.

“Explain what?” she demanded. “You convinced me to stay here, to go against my own reason and judgement, to leave behind my family, my job, my whole life for this… frankly _barbaric_ place, and all the time you were planning to marry someone else?”

“Thou told me morals were loser where thou art from, I thought you would understand.”

“Clearly you didn’t intend for me to understand, or you would have told me this yourself! Besides, I didn’t tell you we were polygamists, did I, Hal? No, we’re still monogamous and adultery is still wrong.”

“I would have told of it, Meg, but the timing wasn’t right.”

“You sent those emissaries to France weeks ago, exactly how long were you planning to wait for the ‘right time’. More likely you were hoping I didn’t find out until it was too late!”

“Meg, prithee hear me, this is not about love, this is a strategic move, to solidify our hold on France! With my marriage to Catherine, England’s rule in France will unquestionable when our son is king.”

“Well too bad for you that your son with that woman is a Stephen Fry look-alike who not only goes bonkers, he loses you France _and_ the English throne too! So fuck off, Hal and leave me the hell alone!”

“Meg? What do you mean he loses France and England?”

“Just that.” Once she reached her room she opened the door and turned to face him, with traitorous tears escaping her eyes. “You will die two years after you marry her and your allegiance with Catherine will mean the end of the House of Lancaster on the English Throne.”

She slammed the door in his face and locked it.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t marry thee, Meg, you aren’t Roman Catholic!”

The ‘even if I wanted to’ stung and she already knew the religion problems.

“I would have converted for you, you giant wanker!” she cried but she had no idea if her words were coherent.

“Meg! Let me in, Meg!”

He pounded on the door but Meg curled up on the bed and ignored him.

“I am the king of England and you are my subject and will do as I say! Open this door right now or so help me, Meg, I will break it down and have thee dragged out!” 

He continued banging and so with a heavy heart, she returned and opened the door, just wide enough to see him.

“I’m not your subject, I never was. If anything, I’m Queen Elizabeth’s subject.” She spoke softly, her words having more power now that she was no longer ranting and raving. “You know, in my time, they hail you as a good king, but they forgot to mention you weren’t a good man. I guess it’s true what they say, power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts absolutely. You can drag me out of this room if you want to, Hal, you have that power, but you can never own my heart. That has to be given and right now, you aren’t worthy of it.”

She closed the door again and leaned against it, unable find the strength to move to the bed again. She suddenly felt exhausted, as if she had run a marathon, and she collapsed to the floor where she was, sobs wracking her frame.

“I’m sorry, Meg,” she heard him say softly, then she heard him walk away.

***

Meg awoke in the morning and found herself on the floor by the door, as if she was guarding it. Her head was throbbing and her eyes felt puffy and sore. She wasn’t even blessed enough to have few blissful moments of ignorance before she remembered, for last night’s revelations were emblazoned on her mind forever more.

She dragged herself to her feet and set about changing her dress for the day, then she made her way to the lab and took some paracetamol powder from the little box she stored it in.

What was she doing here, tinkering with chemicals, when she came from a time when she could buy more over the counter from a pharmacy, than she could ever hope to make in an entire lifetime here? She shouldn’t be here, she didn’t belong.

‘ _I am the world’s biggest fool_ ,’ she thought as she locked the door.

She didn’t bother checking her penicillin, evenalthough it should be ready today, she simply sat at the bench by the window and looked out.

She had no idea how long she sat there before he knocked on the door.

“Meg, don’t be childish, open this door this instant!”

She didn’t reply, she didn’t have the strength to and thankfully, he left quickly.

She sat in the same place most of the day, missing breakfast and lunch, until she had set her resolve. She got a pen, quill and inkwell, then set about writing him a letter. She folded the letter and sealed it with wax, then she ventured out to find a servant to deliver it to Hal and returned to her room.

She undressed and got into bed, wishing that she had a tub of ice cream or chocolate or something. She should have left the moment she realised there was no chocolate here. How could anyone find happiness in a land without chocolate?

***

The evening found Hal brooding in the library. He had spent most of the day here, trying to reason a way out of this mess. He had to marry Catherine if he wanted to cement his hold over France, but he couldn’t give Meg up either.

And her words about his son worried him too. Would the boy really lose everything Henry was working for? And would Henry truly die two years after marrying Catherine? She said she knew the future but she could have been lying to unnerve him.

Why couldn’t she just understand how things were? He had a duty to his country and truth be told, it had been indulgent of him to have taken a lover, for a man could not have two mistresses and his sense of honour wasn’t going to allow him to follow his heart.

He was disturbed from his reverie by a maid entering.

“A thousand pardons, my lord, but I have a note from Lady Hunter.”

The maid handed it to him and bobbing a curtsey, left.

He broke the seal and with a heavy heart, read her letter.

_Hal,_

_I feel I have been too hard on you, I should have realised that you were no more evolved than the men from my time, but I allowed my head to turned by your charm and pretty words. I believed you when you said you loved me, although now I realise that you didn’t ever actually say those words._

_I underestimated you and considering that I met you in a den of iniquity, filled with liars and thieves, once again, the fault is mine. I should have known that like your teacher, Falstaff, you would have an excuse and reason for everything. I should have known better._

_Now that I do know better, I only want one thing from you; for you to keep the promise you made me and grant me access to the chair at the abbey._

_I love you too deeply to share you with anyone and clearly, I cannot have you, so I want to go home._

_Because I’m still a love sick fool, I’ll tell you everything I’ve been working on to aid your fight in France, and all that I can remember about your future and who knows, maybe if you don’t die so early, your son might amount to something._

_Please make arrangements for me to go home as soon as possible, I’ve truly had my fill of this backwards time_.

_Meg_

Hal sighed. He had assumed that she would stay with him, and why should he not think that? She had nothing else here but him so even without marriage, she was bound to him. Now he realised that he should have predicted this, for Meg could not be kept or caged because she was unusually self-possessed, with an independence and determination that rivalled any man. If he refused her request, he had little doubt that she would run away, find her own way to London and break into the Abbey, as she had first intended.

He must make peace with her, and then try and convince her to stay.

But not now, not while tempers ran hot. Tomorrow he would approach her once more and see if he could not broker a reconciliation.

If he could conquer France, he had no doubt that he could conquer one woman, albeit an unusually headstrong one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The following morning, Meg was ready to get back to the business of living and so hardening her heart, she headed to her lab and continued her work on a fuse, because the gunpowder she had made was all but useless without it.

She made a few different mixes of gun powder, some more and some less explosive, then added water to it and soaked cotton twine with the paste. Once dried in the sunlight, she would see which mixture burned best, as in continuously, at a steady pace but not too fast, thus allowing the person who lit it time to run.

She wasn’t surprised when Hal came to find her that afternoon, although she was hurt that he hadn’t come sooner.

She kept her back to him, focusing on the task at hand, laying the fuse twine out in consecutive rows to dry in the sun.

“I received thy letter,” he said in that temptingly rich voice of his.

“Good.”

“Do you really wish to leave me, fair Meg?”

“No.”

“Then I beg thee, do not go.”

She didn’t reply

“This is a marriage of convenience, a political tool, nothing more. It does not affect my regard for you.”

“It doesn’t matter why, Hal, I only know that I am no one’s mistress.”

“But I am a king, there is no shame in it.”

“Put yourself in my place. Imagine that you were outnumbered in battle and the only way to ensure you could retreat, was for me to marry the prince of France. It would only be a marriage of convenience though, made to ensure you lived, but could you stand to see me marry him? To know that I shared his bed on the night’s when I didn’t share yours? Or would it break your heart?”

“It’s different for men, men have to know that they fathered any children resulting from a union.”

She turned to him, her anger flaring. “You’re a man and can get away with it? Why? Because you don’t have to face the consequences? Bullshit!” Her voice cracked and she took a moment to compose herself.

“You know that bible you love so much and use to judge me, Well I've read it, we had to study it in school, and I know it doesn’t make exceptions for men or kings, adultery is always wrong and if you do this, then you are a hypocrite and not the pious man you claim to be. You say God brought me to you, yet you intend to break his one of his commandments in regards to me. What excuse do you use to justify that, Hal?”

“This marriage is necessary to reclaim what is ours. Even my father was in talks to bring this about, before he died.”

“So what, you’re honouring his wishes?”

“I suppose.”

“Well my mother and father raised me to believe in and respect myself. I do love you, Hal, but I love myself as well, far too much to let you do this to me.”

Hal didn’t reply, he just looked at her, his eyes pleading.

“You didn’t answer my question, Hal, could you live with it if our situations were reversed?”

Hal looked down but didn’t reply.

“When can I leave for London?” Meg asked, turning back to her work.

“Meg-”

“I won’t be swayed, Hal, and I know you well enough to know that you won’t either. One way or another, I’m going home.”

“I could have the chair destroyed.”

She tuned and glared at him. “I’ll still leave you. The only way you can keep me here is to imprison me and even if you do, I will fight you with my dying breath. I don’t belong to you, Hal, and I will not be owned my any man, not even a king.”

She turned back to her fuses and after a few long moments, he stepped closer.

“What art thou working on?” he asked, his voice warm once more.

“Fuses,” she answered in a dull tone.

“Fuses?”

“I’ve been making gun powder to use in your battle against France.”

“Thou seems certain that it will come to war.”

She didn’t bother to reply.

“How dost this gun powder work?”

Meg tipped a little of the gun powder onto a tile, then touched a candle to it. Hal stepped back as the mixture ignited, but it was just a small amount and not enough to do any damage.

“This is the black powder we use in cannons. How does this help?”

“More of this, contained in a vessel of some description, will create an explosion. It can be used to knock structures down, or with metal mixed in with the powder, to injure or kill men.”

As she said those words, she realised that she was creating something to kill. She had known it would of course, but it had been an abstract concept until now. Even if she wasn’t the one lighting the fuse, the blood would be on her hands. She could live with that however, as long as Hal lived too.

“Thou spoke of my son the other night.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“You implied that he lost France.”

“He did. He was a weak king and when the Yorks challenged the Lancasters, your house lost.”

“How can I change that?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But it hardly matters, the whole Plantagenet line died out in the War of the Roses, the Tudors ruled after that, then the house of Stuart took over, then they were overthrown in the civil wars and eventually invited back as constitutional monarchs only. After that we had the Houses of Orange, Hanover and Saxe-Coburg. Trust me, Hal, just as nature abhors a vacuum, someone will always be there to step in, the country will go on, regardless.”

“Yet you still do all this that we might succeed in our battle with France.”

“No, Hal. I do all this because even though you’re a bastard, I love you and I can't stand the thought that you might die.”

“I am sorry, Meg.”

“You’re sorry you can't have your cake and eat it too, you’re not sorry for hurting me, or being a hypocrite and viewing me as promiscuous, or turning me into a mistress. You’re sorry that I won’t stand for it, and that's all.”

“I’m not. If there were any other way, I would take it.”

“There is another way, you just don’t want to take it.”

Silence reigned for a few moments.

“I will take thee back to the abbey, Meg, but I ask that thou allow me a few days. I am expecting the emissary we sent to France to return and he expects to come here. It should be another week, no more”

“That’s fine,” she said. “I need to test the bombs and grenades I make anyway. Do you have any lead pipe and metal fragments?”

“Pipes?”

“For a pipe bomb.”

“A pipe bomb?”

“Rather than just repeating what I say, answer my question and soon, you’ll see for yourself what it is.”

“What thickness?”

“I don’t know, an inch, inch and a half maybe. Different diameters and thicknesses might be good, so I can test which works best. I’ll also need a hammer and a saw.”

“And how much of this piping will thou need?”

“As much as you can get. I’ll need a lot more sulphur, charcoal, and saltpetre too. As much as you can get your hands on.”

“How much?”

“Let’s say 50lbs of each, what I don’t use, I’ll leave instructions so someone else can. Trust me, my Lord, this will greatly aid your war effort.”

***

When Hal had lead piping delivered to her, she began making her grenades. She had spent the last two days perfecting the fuses and now had one which burned at one inch per three seconds, meaning that the timing the explosion could be based on the length of the fuse.

She sawed the lead pipe into 14 inch long sections, hammered one end flat, then bent it back on itself and hammered it flat again, before she made it waterproof by sealing the end with wax. She filled the pipes with her most volatile gunpowder recipe and pieces of shrapnel, then she hammered the other end closed, also sealing it with candle wax. Using a small metal spike, she hammered a tiny hole into the pipe for the fuse, which she also then sealed with candle wax around the twine.

With a dozen made, she changed into men’s clothing so that she could run more easily, tied her hair back but she left the hat off. Then sought out Hal, who she was informed was in the library.

“I need to borrow a shield, my Lord,” she had taken to addressing him formally, even when they were alone, trying to distance herself from him.

“Pardon?” he turned to her, his expression as near to anger as she had ever seen.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“The Dauphin sent an ambassador to reply to our message, with a ton of treasure.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It was a ton of tennis balls.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot that.” She smiled.

“Thou enjoys his mockery?” Hal demanded.

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t know you when I first heard that story.”

Hal muttered a curse and turned away. “What does thou need a shield for?”

“The pipe bombs are ready. If you have two shields, you might enjoy this too, given your mood.”

Which was how they found themselves out in the forest, Meg carrying her pipes, a candle lantern (which protected the candle from the elements) and a trowel and Hal carrying the shields, a piece of paper secured to a wooden board with a few drops of wax (Meg’s idea of a clipboard) and some charcoal.

She stopped by a fairly large tree and put all but one pipe down. Then taking one pipe and the lantern thirty paces away, she placed the pipe on the ground. Hal left his things by the same tree and followed her.

“When I light this, run back to the tree and shelter behind it and your shield. We’ll have twenty seconds to get away,” she advised, opening the lantern. “Ready?”

He nodded that he was and she touched the end of the wick to the candle and as the fuse sparked, she dropped it, closed the lantern and ran, counting ‘one-one thousand, two-one thousand’ in her head.

They reached the tree with easily five seconds to spare and both stood, peering around the trunk, shields at the ready to protect their faces.

The blast wasn’t as large as she expected but she was thrilled to have succeeded, and Hal looked wondrous.

“Yes!” she called and without thought, she threw her arms around him and hugged him. “Yes yes yes!”

It turned out that as well as anger, explosives are also very good for a broken heart. She hadn’t felt this happy since before she first heard about Catherine. 

A moment later, she realised that she was supposed to be keeping her distance from him and awkwardly disengaged herself. The smile on Hal’s face was almost enough to break her resolve, but not quite. To cover her embarrassed blush, she turned away and headed to the blast area to see how much damage it had caused.

“What was that?” Hal asked.

“A pipe bomb,” she answered as they walked around, seeing what damage had been done.

Hal wandered around the trees. “Look at the damage to the bark!” he exclaimed, “Why this would tear through men like a hot knife through butter. Far more effective than any cannon.”

“It is,” she assured him, trying not to think of the men who might be harmed. “It can also be used to bring structures down. In a minute we’ll find a tree and bury a pipe at the base, and we’ll see how much damage they can do. For now, find the furthest tree that has damaged bark, that’ll let us know the blast radius.”

Once they had found the tree, she walked heel to toe from the bomb site to the tree, then recorded the distance in the charcoal on the ‘clipboard’. She couldn't believe that pencils hadnt been invented yet.

“We have three widths of pipe, so we’ll try the one and a half inch next, see if that has more power.”

After all three were tested, they buried all but the top of the bomb at the base of a tree, lit the fuse and ran again. It didn’t fell the tree, but it did seriously damage it.

“How does this work?” he asked as they examined the damage, and she did her best to explain an explosion.

“When the gunpowder ignites, it causes a rapid heating and expansion. In a confined space, such as trapped in a pipe, the pressure builds until it bursts the casing, forcing everything out and turning the pipe itself and the bits of metal inside into projectiles.”

“And this even works on stone?”

“It takes far more to blow stone up than a man, but yes, with enough explosives, you can reduce anything to rubble. Your canons might be better for that though, I don’t know, I’d have to test both then compare and contrast. These are a lot easier to carry around than a canon though. Now let’s test how good a grenade they make,” she said. “How’s your throwing arm?” 

“I have a reasonable measure in strength,” he answered.

“Good.” She handed him a pipe and lit the fuse. She has tested the fuses, waving them around while lit to be sure that they wouldn’t go out in the wind, but there was nothing like a field test.

Hal threw it and it performed well, exploding where it landed.

“All the pipes have a twenty second fuse,” she explained, “But it might be worth shortening that in battle, you don’t want to give the opposition time to throw it back.”

Once they had used all the pipes she had made thus far, they returned to the house, but Hal looked troubled.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“This will surely give furtherance to our expedition but these ‘bombs’, while effective, are hardly honourable. A gentleman fights hand to hand, with a sword.”

“But you have archers, don’t you?”

“We do.”

“They fire over distance, so throw the bombs where you aim the arrows.”

He nodded, seemingly accepting her argument.

“And even if you choose not to use them on the battle field, you can use them on fortifications, castles, town walls, that sort of thing.”

“Thou has truly given England a gift with this, Meg.”

She thought it was rather a poisoned chalice, but it would help win the war, no doubt.

“You have my thanks.”

“I only want you to keep your word, my Lord,” she reminded him, as if frightened that he wouldn’t help her get back inside the abbey.

“And who will make these bombs once thou hast gone?”

“I’ll leave instructions. And if you have someone who can read and write, I’ll teach them in person before we leave for London.”

“I shall find such a man,” he assured her.

“It doesn’t have to be a man,” she reminded him. “And you have to be careful with this stuff, keep it dry and away from heat sources. If they blows up in your camp, it’ll be your men torn shreds.”

“All necessary precautions shall be taken.”

The servants were all of a flutter back at the Pleasance, having heard the bangs and become afraid. Men had even been sent across the mere to retrieve guards from the Castle.

“Calm yourselves, ‘tis but an experiment,” Hal assured them. “Our Lady Meg has turned the tide of this war before it has begun.”

He placed an arm around her shoulders, which made Meg rather uncomfortable, but only because she enjoyed it being there.

“How many of these can thou make?” Hal asked as they headed inside.

“As many as I have pipe, twine and chemicals for,” she answered. “I’ll make some in different sizes, longer or wider pipes have more power, which would be good for blowing up walls, while shorter pipes might be better for grenades, the ones you throw.”

“Tis a good plan, my dear.”

“I’m not your dear, My Lord, not any more.” As hard as it was, she slipped out from under his arm. “When do we leave for London?”

“In three days.”

“Then I’ll make as much as I can before then.” She made her way inside.

***

As they journeyed to London, Meg found herself backtracking, trying to talk herself into staying, convincing herself that she _could_ be a mistress, _and_ be happy.

Leaving him would be the hardest thing she had ever done, and she really didn’t want to.

But in her heart of hearts, she knew that she couldn’t. Watching him sleep with someone else, raise a family with her and attend public events with her, while Meg was relegated to some dirty little secret, would kill her. She owed it to herself to move on and try to find someone who loved her as she deserved.

That didn’t mean that leaving wasn’t going to break her too, but the pain would be singular and she would recover from it. If she stayed, her heart would receive a daily battering and never have a chance to recover.

They arrived at Westminster Palace in the evening and after their horses were taken from them, they headed towards the Painted Room, the King’s quarters.

“When do you want to do this?” Hal asked.

“Tonight would be nice but it’s probably better if I go in the morning. I can ride out, make some excuse about going to stay with a friend, then no one will know I’ve gone missing.”

“If you think that is best.”

“I do,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll ride out alone and change into boy’s clothes in the Hog’s Head, then you can meet me at the Abbey later.”

“As you wish,” he agreed.

Meg turned to him but hesitated a moment before speaking, still arguing with herself.

“Will… will you stay with me tonight?” she asked.

“I thought thou was avoiding me?”

“I was.” Her eyes began to sting with tears and it took a moment before she could speak again. “But after tomorrow I won’t see you again, so I want to make some final memories to take with me.”

“Art thou sure?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then of course I will stay with thee.”

***

Hal came to her room that evening, as she wanted, and he stepped closer to her and raised a hand to cup her cheek.

“I shall miss you, my dear.”

“Me too,” she said. “But no more talk of that tonight, I just want to enjoy you.”

He smiled and bent his head to kiss her.

The first time they made love was tender and loving but their second coupling had more desperation and as she came, tears began to leak from her eyes.

Still inside her, Hal leaned down and kissed their tracks.

“Don’t leave me,” he implored.

“I have to,” she said her voice cracked with sorrow.

“What can I do to change your mind?”

“You already know,” she told him.

“I wish that I could agree to your terms.”

“Me too.”

***

Meg walked along beside Hal as he strode through the Abbey, his request that he be allowed to sit on the coronation throne while he prayed for guidance having not been questioned by the monks.

Meg wished she could have worn the clothes she arrived in but in the company of a prince or not, she wouldn’t have been let into the abbey wearing a dress, she was sure.

The room where the throne was kept was empty of people and Meg felt a surge of emotions as she gazed upon the object that had brought her here.

“I was thinking about my ex,” she said aloud.

“Thy ‘ex’?”

“Former paramour,” she explained. “I didn’t wish for him back but I did want someone new to love, someone who could love me as I deserved.”

She began to cry.

“You think it brought you to your true love?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t really know anything.”

She turned to him and stretched up to kiss him. It was meant to be sweet but as he pulled her against him and deepened the kiss, it turned passionate. When he finally released her, she was breathless.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“And I thee.”

Her hands went to his cheeks, her thumbs caressing his face and she smiled through her tears.

“Stay, Meg. Stay with me.”

“I wish I could.”

“You can.”

“I deserve more than you can give me, and you know it.”

“Please.”

“No.” The word came out as a sob but no matter how painful, she was resolute.

He dropped his arms from around her as she stepped back and pulled her hat off, handing it back to him.

“Thanks for the loan.”

“Twas my pleasure.”

She tightened her grip on her handbag as she approached the chair that had started this whole mess, and turned to face him.

“Be happy, Hal.”

“And thee.”

Her tears were falling so fast that she could hardly see him as she sat down.

“Goodbye, Hal.”

She sat there for a few moments and grew terrified that it wasn’t working, then Hal began to fade from her blurred vision and just before he disappeared, she heard him gasp and call her name, although it was but a whisper to her ear.

***

Hal stood and stared at the chair in shock.

He hadn’t believed her, not really. Her tale, while backed up by some very odd items, had simply been too outrageous to believe.

It was Aristotle who said, ‘there is no great genius without a mixture of madness’ and given her miraculous healing of him, he presumed her to have a measure of madness, which allowed her to accomplish seemingly astonishing feats.

Which is why he hadn’t truly believed that she would leave him. Run away perhaps, but not… not disappear as if she had never existed.

She truly had been a gift from God and for abusing her, God had taken her back.

Hal fell to his knees and clasped his hands together. “Oh dear Lord, what have I done?” he prayed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thank you to everyone who is enjoying this and has sent me a message. Please don't hate me, we're not done yet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: One person asked if Meg could be pregnant. Back in chapter 3 I mentioned that she had a contraceptive hormone implant, which lasts 3 years so no, no baby Hal’s running around.

**Chapter Seven**

Meg’s (admittedly poor) excuse for where she had been proved unnecessary when she was found sobbing incoherently, sitting on the coronation throne. When the staff tried to rebuke her, they found she could do nothing but sob hysterically.

More assistance was called and she was soon surrounded my tourists, staff and even a priest. Someone recognised her as a missing person, so the police were called and she was ferried to hospital.

Worried about her hysterical crying, the hospital staff decided to sedate her so that she could sleep. When she awoke, the police had some awkward questions for her.

She couldn’t answer them in any way that would be believable, so she simply claimed not to know where she had been or what had happened. She told them of what happened the day she went missing, of going to the Abbey, but then she claimed not to remember anything else.

They asked about the burns on her hands, which she had sustained while testing the gunpowder and fuses, but she still claimed not to know anything about them. Her tears, which were never far from the surface, made them treat her kindly and gently.

She had little choice but to keep claiming amnesia, and so she began to ask where she had been, didn’t anyone know, and hadn’t anyone seen her? A person did not simply puff out of existence for almost five months, she insisted.

The doctor explained both to her and to the police, that she suspected Meg was suffering from dissociative amnesia following trauma, and that with counselling or in time, her memories might return.

The police accepted this and eventually allowed her brother and sister in to see her.

Her brother Matthew came first, Ruth hot on his heels and she hugged them both tightly.

“Where have you been all these months?” Ruth demanded. “We were so worried.”

Meg didn’t answer, she couldn’t through her fresh tears, and her sadness was now laden with a heavy dose of guilt too.

***

It took her two days to pluck up the courage, but she reasoned that she had to tell her siblings what had really happened to her. They both looked at her like she was insane and when she went to make tea, she heard Matt suggest that maybe this was a part of the dissociative amnesia, that her brain had filled in the blanks of the memories she had repressed with fanciful tales.

“I’m not crazy,” she tried to explain when she came back. “I know it sounds that way, and even I thought I was hallucinating to begin with, but I’m not. I swear.”

“So you went back in time and had a love affair with Henry the fifth?” Ruth said, trying not to sound scornful.

Meg sighed, they were never going to believe her so she stopped trying to convince them. When she sometimes questioned her sanity, she looked at the selfie she’d taken of Hal on her phone, proof positive that he hadn’t been a dream.

It was surprisingly easy to slot back into her life. Since her savings and current accounts were linked, her savings were automatically transferred over to cover payments, rather than going overdrawn, so her mortgage and bills had all been paid on time.

Her work had kept her job open and although they’d had to reduce her wages, she still received sick pay, so not even her savings had taken that big of a dent.

She avoided any and all mentions of medieval history and as far as she could see, the only thing that had changed was that the UK was now The United Kingdom of the British Isles and France, so Hal had obviously succeeded in uniting England and France permanently. She wondered what exactly she had changed to make the union endure, but she didn’t dare go and look. She couldn’t stand to read about him and Catherine.

She cried a lot, but usually at home and if she became tearful while she was out, everyone was very understanding, which only made her feel more guilty because the only trauma she had suffered, was a broken heart.

Life went on and day after day, she went through the motions of living, and each day got just a tiny bit easier.

By the end of a month, she was only crying at home. By two months, she was able to sleep almost uninterrupted most nights. By three months, she was beginning to believe she was getting over him, until she saw an advert for a documentary on the Reign of Henry V. She turned the TV off immediately but she had still seen his portrait and it felt as if her heart was breaking all over again.

***

Meg was having a hell of a day. After seeing Hal on the television yesterday evening, she had hardly slept a wink last night and had overslept her alarm by almost an hour. She got ready in record time and might have been okay, had it not been for the fact that the tube wasn’t running due to some kind of bomb scare, so she’d been forced to take the bus, putting her even further behind.

Despite the fact she had called in to let the office know, when she eventually got there, her editor, who up until now had been handling her with kid gloves in respect of her ‘ordeal’, had raked her over the coals first thing for being late, and even promising to stay late and make the time up didn’t end the tirade she’d had to endure.

Now that she came to think of it, the atmosphere throughout the office seemed tense today and she had no idea why (she hoped there wasn’t talk of redundancies or anything). On top of all that, she hadn’t had time to stop in and buy her usual morning latte and her lethargy was causing her to have problems digesting the newest paper on a new IVF drug that was in development.

She was far too distracted to focus properly so at noon, she decided to leave for an early lunch. Maybe some food would help her brain, and she could have that coffee she had missed so much.

As she got to the reception on her floor, she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Hi Meg,” Brian from accounts said as he headed into the offices, but she didn’t register him. “Meg? Meg, are you all right?”

She looked to her friend, then back to the reception desk.

“Can you see that man? The one with his back to us.” she asked him.

“What man? Are you okay?”

“The one there, in red leather, talking with Stacey.”

“I can see him, why? Meg, are you quite all-”

Meg began walking away.

“-right?”

Even though she had proof that she wasn’t hallucinating, she still didn’t trust her eyes and stopped a few paces away.

“She isn’t answering her phone, can I take a message?” Stacey was offering.

“Hal?”

He turned, and his face lit up in a bright smile. “Meg!”

Before she knew what was happening, he had swept her into his arms and hugged her so tightly that her feet left the floor.

When Hal finally let her down, Meg still didn’t believe that he was here.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to find thee. I mean, you.”

“But… how?!”

“The same way you found me. The war in-”

Mel clamped a hand over his mouth, afraid he would say enough to get himself sectioned under the mental health act. Their enthusiastic greeting had brought a small audience of sorts.

“Let’s talk at lunch,” she suggested, turning to Stacey. “I’m going out for an hour.”

“Sure you are,” Stacey said with a wink. “But remember, Travellodge don’t rent rooms by the hour.”

As she turned to leave, Meg raised her left hand over her shoulder, her middle finger raised, and she heard Stacey laugh.

She led Hal to the lift and pressed the button.

“What do we wait for?” he asked.

“The lift. Didn’t you take it to get up here?”

“I took the stairs, was I supposed to climb?”

“You walked up eleven flights of stairs?”

“Yes. I am glad you don’t work higher in the building, there must be fifty floors.”

“There are,” she assured him. “And lifts are big boxes in a shaft and using winches, they raise or lower people to their desired floors.”

The doors opened and she stepped in, as did Hal, although with some trepidation.

“You pick your floor here,” she said, “We want G, for Ground.” She turned to him. “Take that dagger off, for God’s sake! You can't carry weapons here, they’ll arrest you.”

“How do you protect yourself?”

“You don’t, not with weapons, because any weapon used for defence can also be used for attack. I do carry a personal alarm though.”

Hal handed her his dagger and she stuffed it into her large handbag.

“And the belt and gloves.” He passed them to her. “Not much we can do about the codpiece but you look fairly modern now. Maybe a little steam punk, but that’s in fashion right now,” she muttered to herself.

As the lift stopped, it spoke in its electronic voice to say ‘ _Ground floor_ ’.

“What marvels you have here,” he said as they exited.

Once out on the busy street, she took Hal’s arm, for his head was whipping about in every direction and she was worried she’d lose him. Despite it not being that cold for October, everything seemed dull today, people all wearing dark colours and shuffling around with their collars up and heads bowed, as if they were in a storm, not a bright autumnal day.

“The carriages, the lights, the merchants, and so many people!” Hal commented. His red leather tunic was a bright splash of colour among the sea of navy, black and brown.

She smiled at his enthusiasm and led him to a pub on the corner, where she claimed a corner booth for them. The waitress came and she ordered a coffee for herself and tea for Hal, then the girl handed them both a menu.

“What is this?” he asked once the waitress left.

“A menu. You pick what dish you want and order it.”

“But there are nearly 20 items here!”

“I know, but cooking is easier than it once was.”

“What is risotto?”

“It’s made with rice.”

“And vegetarian?”

“They’re dishes made for people who don’t eat meat.”

“Why would they not eat meat?”

“They don’t believe in eating other living creatures.”

“Is this true, a dish costs fifteen pounds?!”

“Yes, but the pound is worth less here, and there are only a hundred pennies in a modern pound, not 240.”

“And what is-”

“Might I recommend you have the bangers and mash? I’ll explain the menu later, when you’ve answered a few of my questions.”

“I shall trust thy judgement.”

“ _‘Your_ judgement’, you can't speak like that here, you’ll look weird and draw attention to yourself.”

“Very well, o-kay, I shall endeavour to follow the patterns of thine- of your speech.”

She smiled, amused to hear him speaking modern vernacular.

“Now, how did you get here?” she asked.

“The same way you did. Meg, I have been a fool, I should not have let you go. You single handily won the war for us without even being there. We made a thousand of your devices and marched straight into Paris, virtually unhindered, knocking down everything in our path that would not yield to us and so, the French gave in to all our demands without much of a fight, thus marriage to Catherine became unnecessary. When we returned to England, I knew I had to find you and went straight to the Abbey the next morning. I sat on the throne and thought about you but I thought it had not worked, until I looked up to see people, dressed as strangely as you were upon our first meeting.”

“But how did you find me?”

“Thou- you told me that you worked at Modern Science, so I asked people until someone took out a small box, such as the one you played music on, and found directions for me.”

“So you walked all the way from Westminster?”

“I did. I now quite understand how disconcerted you must have felt when you arrived in my time and saw that the landmarks had changed.”

“That’s got to be five miles. How long did it take you to walk here?”

“A little more than two hours, I believe, I was somewhat distracted and had to retrace my steps a few times.”

“And what happens to your kingdom with you gone?”

“My eldest brother is capable enough rule in my stead, until I return.”

“So you are going back?”

“I must. Marriage might not have been as necessary, as I thought, but I do still have a kingdom to run. I was a fool, I see that now, but I have realised my error and I would dearly like for you to come home with me.”

She nodded but was unwilling to commit and luckily, the waitress returned then with their drinks.

“Are you ready to order?” She asked with a smile.

“I’ll have the carbonara and my friend will have the sausage and mash,” Meg replied.

“Any sides?”

“Just garlic bread, thank you. Actually, better make that a bread basket.” She didn’t want to smell of garlic later.

“Sides?” Hal asked when the server left.

“Additional dishes of food that sit beside the plate.”

“Aah.”

“Hal, even if I wanted to go back, who is to say the chair would send us back?”

“I knew that was a risk, but the wars are as good as won and I am not so necessary as usual, so I had to take that chance.”

Meg sipped her latte, then prepared Hal’s tea.

“Tell me, did we keep France this time?” Hal asked.

“We did. We are now The United Kingdom of Great Britain, Ireland and France.”

Hal smiled. “I am glad.”

“Try that,” Meg said, pushing the tea cup back to him.

“Bitter.”

“Very bitter?”

“No, not very.”

She put one sugar lump in stirred the tea. “Try it now.”

“Much better. What is it?”

“The tea I was telling you about. And mine is a very milky coffee.”

“Tis a very good thing,” he said, taking a sip.

“Wait until you discover ice cream and pizza,” she teased.

“So what do you say, Meg, will you return to my time and become my Queen?”

“Oh, Hal, it isn’t that simple any more. My family were dreadfully worried when I disappeared, I don’t know if I can do that to them again.”

“But you were meant to be with me.”

“Or maybe, _you_ were meant to be with _me_ ,” she countered.

“But what good can I do here?”

“I didn’t know what good I could do in your time,” she countered.

“Then we must task our thoughts and determine what we must do for the best.”

“That might take a while,” she insisted. “And if I do decide to return with you, I’ll have to do things properly this time. As well as saying goodbye, I’d need to sell my house and car, give two weeks’ notice at work and find some excuse to tell my family.”

“Then I shall stay until you are ready to depart.”

“I said ‘ _if’_ I decide to return,” she reminded him.

“My Kingdom is at peace for the time being and as I said, my brother can lead for a time. He would not make an exceptional King but he has a strategic mind for battle and is therefore a very capable leader. Thus I believe we can take some time to weigh the possibilities.”

“Okay. We need to get you some new clothes first, I can do that after work this evening. I’ll need to shop as well, I’ve hardly got any food in.”

“Shop?”

“Buy food,” she explained. “Maybe I can leave work early today. I’ll try, at least. What am I going to do with you until then?”

“Can I not go with you?”

“Was I allowed to sit in on your court?”

“Well no, but thou art a woman.” 

“‘ _But you are’_ ,” she corrected. “And if I do agree to go back with you, that sexist shit has to stop right now.”

“Sexist?”

“Making out that woman are inferior just because they don’t have a dick. Did you know what half of all Viking warriors were women? Because they were. And in modern times, the countries that do best are those with equality.”

“Can you prove these claims?”

“I can find you articles and studies.”

“I should very much like to read them.”

***

Meg left Hal in the pub but after speaking to HR (rather than her editor), she was able to leave work after an hour by taking half a day’s holiday, and went straight to the pub to collect Hal.

They bought him a mixture of casual and smart clothes, then stopped into Marks and Spencer’s food court.

Watching his expression as he followed her around was highly entertaining, for he had never seen so much choice before in his life. The tube especially was an experience that she would remember for years, as he marvelled at the underground ‘carts’.

Once home she turned the lights on, then switched the television onto News 24, as she usually did, just to catch up on the day’s events, and turned the volume up so she could hear it while she unpacked in the kitchen.

“Why is it so warm in here?” he asked as he followed her into the kitchen, while she unpacked the shopping.

“Central heating. The white metal things against the wall in each room give off heat.”

“Amazing.”

“Wait until you see hot and cold running water,” she said more to herself than to him.

“And your candles are so bright.”

“They’re not candles, they’re light bulbs, they run off electricity,” she answered. “Are you thirsty?”

“Yes, a little.”

She got a diet lemonade from the fridge, which she kept for her niece and nephews (they always got contraband at Auntie Meg’s) pulled the tab and handed it to him. “Try that.”

“Why is it so cold?”

“Because it came from the fridge. They were invented to keep food cold because that slows bacteria production, thus keeps it fresher for longer, but we also like cold beverages sometimes too.”

He tasted the drink. “I have never tasted anything like that.”

She held her hand up to silence him and cocked her head as the headlines from the news reached her ears.

‘ _The headlines this hour: the Nazi’s bombed the French headquarters of the coalition this afternoon, as part of the continuing war between Nazi Europe and the Sovereign European Coalition. Early reports suggest that thirteen were killed in the blast, but the death toll is expected to rise_.’

Meg left her shopping on the side and wandered back into the living room to listen.

‘ _At a press conference, President Cameron said that England would not stand for these tactics and pledged another hundred thousand troops to aid in the war effort. Prime Minister McPhee of Scotland is expected to make a similar pledge in the morning._

“ _President_ of England? And Scotland with its own Prime Minister?” Meg whispered.

“What is this?” Hal asked.

“The news, they report noteworthy events from around the world,” she told him quickly.

‘ _This evening also saw the latest draft ballot for the armed forces, and in light of Mr Cameron’s statement, two dates were selected; the fifth of April and the fourth of December. Anyone between the ages of eighteen and forty and born on those dates, is expected to enlist before the 31st of the month, or face draft dodging charges_.’

“Matt,” she whispered.

“Matt?”

“My brother, his birthday is December fourth. He’s been drafted.”

_‘In other news, Russia today claimed victory against Nazi Europe, when they bombed a Nazi garrison near the Latvian boarder. The number of casualties is as yet unknown.’_

“What? No, no this is all wrong,” she whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Hal asked.

“The war, the Nazis. We defeated them seventy years ago! And we haven’t had National Service or drafting since the 50s.”

She listened to the rest of the headlines in shocked silence, trying to make sense of everything.

‘ _Following a bomb scare on the London Underground this morning, all routes and stations were closed until noon today, when the Security Services declared the scare a hoax by the Neo Nazi group, Britain First_. _In light of the recent spate of hoaxes, the government-_ ’

“That’s why everyone suddenly seemed so grumpy today, because we’ve been at war for decades.”

“Perhaps your visit to the past changed things,” Hal suggested.

“No, Hal, you don’t understand. Yesterday Europe wasn’t at war and the only real difference seemed to be that the United Kingdom now included France too. But we were at peace, there was no war, no Nazis, no bombings.” She turned to him. “This is because you’re here.”

“Thou art claiming this war is my fault?” He sounded affronted.

“No, at least, not really. But you left your time and arrived here today. Yesterday everything was fine, today it’s all gone to hell. Somehow, your leaving has changed the future, and not for the better.”

She turned back to the screen, which was now showing the Army at the French bomb site, ferrying the dead and injured about.

“You have to go back,” she said, turning to him once more. “Something you do must prevent this.”

Hal nodded. “Agreed. Wilt thou come with me, fair Meg, and rule by my side as my Queen?”

She looked from the television to Hal and back again.

“Thou may still have the time to sort your affairs, for it surely matters not when I return, as long as I do.”

Meg knew she had little choice, he had to return and her love was so great, she couldn’t turn him away a second time. Life here, while easier, would be hollow without him.

“I’ll go with you, Hal.”

The soft smile that lit up his face made her sure she’d made the right decision. 

Her phone rang and she rushed into the kitchen and took it from her bag.

“Hello? No, I haven’t heard from him.”

“Who are you talking to?” Hal asked as he followed her.

“He wouldn’t do anything silly, Ruth.”

Hal was turning in a circle, trying to find who she was speaking with, so she put her phone onto speaker so he could hear Ruth.

“He can't be drafted, he has two children!” Ruth said, and Hal’s eyebrows almost leapt into his hairline as he heard the disembodied voice.

“Who is that?” Hal asked.

“My sister,” she quickly explained to him. “Look, I’ll fix this, Ruth, I swear.”

“How?” she demanded. “You’re going to miraculously end the war?”

“I- I can't exactly explain it but please believe me, we _will_ fix this and Matt won’t be drafted. I swear.”

“We? Who is ‘we’? Who’s there with you?”

“Look, Ruth, I can't explain now.”

“Meg, you’re not making any sense!”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I’ll find a way to explain it to you, I promise.”

“You don’t even sound upset!”

‘ _Because this isn’t a reality I’m used to; I can only imagine what being drafted into this war entails_.’

“Ruth, please, just give me some time and everything will be okay.”

Ruth sighed. “I'm going to try Matt again.”

“Let me know if you reach him.”

“I will.”

Meg ended the call and looked to Hal.

“We should determine where the timeline went wrong,” Meg suggested.

“How do we do that?”

“There have to be a thousand and one books on it but for now, we’ll try wiki.”

***

It turned out that everything Meg knew about history (which admittedly, was mostly just names and dates) changed after Hal left his time. Having no heir, once it became clear that Hal wasn’t coming back, his brother inherited the throne, then promptly lost it to Hotspur’s son, Henry Percy, the 2nd Earl of Northumberland. The civil wars in the 1600s were longer, bloodier and nastier, resulting in a permanent republic under a tyrant even worse than Cromwell, who had been killed in battle.

Scotland retained its king and they remained at war with England, so the 1707 act of the union never happened, although a treaty finally brought lasting peace between the nations in 1839.

Since parliament granted it more freedom and less taxes, America remained a British colony, and thus they never achieved quite the same might that they had in in Meg’s time.

The Nazi party rose to power under Adolf Hitler, but they didn’t invade Poland until the 50’s, by which time their party politics had spread to other western European countries and gained a strong foothold. They seemed unbeatable and by the 1980s, they had successfully invaded half of the continent. Only Russia beat them back to the east, and the British Isles, France, Spain and Portugal to the west.

It was all so different from what Meg knew, and the only solution was to go back and make sure young Hotspur junior didn’t seek vengeance for his father’s death and claim the crown for himself.

In the course of her research however, she discovered some sketches and a painting that intrigued her.

“What are these?” she asked Hal. He put her tablet computer down, which he was using to browse Wikipedia, and came to look over her shoulder. He had proved surprisingly adept at navigating the tablet but then, he was only reading.

“Thy departure saddened me and I returned to the Hog’s Head for a night or two. The second night, the understinker, Francis, clapped a scrap of paper into my hand; he’d attempted to draw thee. On seeing that he had some talent, I bought him out of his indenture and had him apprenticed to a painter, on condition that he made me a portrait of you. He had finished it by the time I returned from France but as soon as I saw it, I knew that a painting wouldn’t be enough.”

Maybe Hal, the (obviously) spitting Image of Henry V, combined with this painting of Meg, would be enough to convince her siblings that she hadn’t been lying.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Meg had convinced her brother and sister to come and visit her the next day, along with their partners, as it would be easier to convince everyone together. Unfortunately, that meant that they brought their children who combined, were a bit of a handful. Strength in numbers and all that.

Matt and his wife, Lucy, looked shell-shocked and pale thanks to his being drafted, and even their two children, usually a maelstrom of chaos, seemed a little subdued.

Hal was dressed in black jeans, a white t-shirt with a black cardigan over them and if she did say so herself, he looked mighty fine, even in such simple clothes.

“So, are you going to explain what all this is about?” Ruth demanded as soon the children were in settled in Meg’s bedroom, watching a cartoons on the television. “And who is this strange man?”

“This is Hal,” Meg said, introducing him. “Hal, my sister Ruth and her husband Tony, and my brother Matt and his partner, Lucy.”

“Tis a very great pleasure to make thy acquaintance,” Hal bowed very slightly.

“Your acquaintance,” Meg corrected.

“He’s the spitting image of Henry the fifth,” Ruth’s husband, Tony said.

Meg flinched. “Yeah, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, not this again,” Ruth sighed dramatically. Matt silently sat down, only nodding at Hal in greeting.

“I know you both thought I was talking bollocks when I told you I had gone back in time, but I did, and this is Hal. My Hal, better known as Henry the fifth of England.”

Ruth tutted and rolled her eyes.

“You must have seen his portraits, no?” Meg urged.

“He is a good likeness.” Lucy noted.

“He’s not just a good likeness, he is Hal. And this,” she handed then the tablet. “That’s a portrait Hal had commissioned of me after I left him.”

They passed the tablet around, clearly intrigued but still sceptical.

“So, he’s the Lost King, is he?” Matt asked, coming out of his stupor a little.

They had learned last night that after Hal disappeared, he became known as the Lost King.

“Yes, and he’s lost because he followed me here,” Meg tried to explain. “And I know none of this will make any sense to you, but the England I grew up in was peaceful, and so was the England that I returned to. It was only when Hal followed me here that things changed.”

“Changed?” Tony asked.

“Yes. In the original timeline, the Nazis were defeated in 1945 but Hal leaving his time to come ot the future has changed something and caused a ripple effect, that’s why we’re at war now.”

“So you’re trying to tell me your new boy toy is responsible for my being drafted?” Matt seemed amused.

“Yes, and he’s also the reason you won’t be drafted. We’re going back to the 1400s and if we do, then everything here should go back to normal.”

“This is not funny, Margaret!” Ruth spat. “I don’t know what trick you’re trying to pull but stop this nonsense right this second or so help me, I’ll swing for you!”

Hal stood up. “Your reproof is something too round*! [*Your scolding is too harsh] Cease thy vile words, sirrah, for she is not deserving of thy scorn. Prithee thee would show the Lady Meg the respect she is deserving of, or I shall not be responsible for _my_ actions.”

Everyone looked a little taken aback by his sudden regal appearance, much as Meg had been that first night at the tavern, when he had shed his hedonistic party boy image and stood up to the Sheriff. This was a man used to being listened to and his demeanour had shocked her siblings into silence for a moment.

Ruth was the first to come back to herself and ask, “What is he, an actor?”

“No, he is Henry Plantagenet,” Meg insisted.

“Do all kings wear jeans and t-shirts?” she sniped.

“I think I know a way we can settle this,” Lucy spoke up. “I think I remember that Henry the fifth received wounds at Shrewsbury.”

“Tis true,” Hal nodded. “One to the shoulder and one to my leg.”

“Yes, that sounds right,” Lucy nodded.

“Then by all means, show us,” Ruth scoffed.

“You wish me to disrobe in public?” he asked her, askance.

“Hal, things are different here, as long as you don’t reveal the family jewels, you’re good,” Meg assured him.

“I swear that thy language has become even stranger since thou left me.”

“Stop stalling,” she challenged and with a glare, he pulled his jacket and t-shirt off.

“Coincidence,” Ruth scoffed.

Meg tried to discreetly nod to his jeans and after a silent battle of wills, he undid the belt and pushed them low enough to make his thigh wound visible.

“It’s some kind of prosthetic or makeup,” Ruth declared.

“Touch it,” Meg offered, and Hal scowled at her.

“I am _not_ some cut of beef you can offer around!”

Meg got up and stood before him. “I’m sorry, Hal, I really am, but my brother is being forced into a conflict that had already killed a hundred million world-wide.” Her reading had last night had educated her on the war a little. “Can you not endure a little embarrassment if it sets his mind at rest? For me?”

Hal tried to relax. “What is one further indignity?” he sighed. “Come forth Mistress Ruth, you may poke and prod me at your leisure, within reason.”

Ruth did approach but she only ran her finger tips over each wound, seemingly slightly ashamed that she had insisted on it.

“They feel real,” she admitted quietly.

“Good,” Hal said as he pulled his jeans up. “I believe that is quite enough degradation for one day.” Grabbing his t-shirt back and jacket back, he carried them out of the room with him.

No one spoke, they didn’t know what to say, much less what to believe.

Hal returned moments later, fully dressed once more and carrying the clothes he was wearing yesterday, as well as his dagger and belt.

“Here are the garments I arrived with.” He shoved the pile at Ruth but it was Lucy who accepted them, and she began to examine the stitching, while Matt took the dagger.

“This is wicked sharp,” he noted. “And is that blood?”

“That dagger was with me at every battle since I was but three and ten,” Hal explained. “It has seen more than a little blood.”

“This whole garment is hand stitched,” Lucy noted. “Very good work but not done by machine.”

“Okay, say that we do believe this cock and bull story,” Ruth coughed. “Why haven’t things changed if you intend to go back?”

“Because making a decision means nothing if you don’t follow through with it. When we go back, then things should change.”

“So why tell us? Why not just go back and make things right?”

Meg looked hurt. “Because as well as practicalities such as selling my house, I wanted to say goodbye this time, so that you didn’t spend the rest of your lives wondering where I was and what had happened to me.”

Ruth looked a little chastened and silence descended on them for a few moments as they each digested this.

Matt’s wife, Lucy, was the one to break it. “Okay, so say you do go back and things change, will we even remember this conversation?”

“I don’t know,” Meg admitted. “I seem to be the only person who remembers how things used to be but I don’t know if that’s because I travelled in time, or because I just know about it and believe in it. But, since I am going back, and I wouldn’t just run out on you again under any circumstances, I would assume that no matter what changes, we will have had this conversation in some form. And if I can find a way, I’ll try and send a letter through time for you to find.”

“Like the Doc did to Marty McFly?” Lucy smiled.

“I do not understand,” Hal frowned.

“It’s… like a play,” Meg tried to explain. “One character ends up stranded in the past and gives a letter to a law firm to deliver in a hundred years’ time. I’ll try and do something like that but I have no idea if such a promise can last 600 years.”

“And what if things don’t change for the better?” Matt asked.

“We can't guarantee that,” Meg admitted. “All I can tell you is that with Hal in the past, things here were good. Without him, everything’s gone to hell.”

“Can you really live in the past though?” Tony spoke up. “The disease, crime, poverty, brutality, to say nothing of the sexism.”

“Meg shall rule by my side,” Hal spoke up. “I may not understand your society but even I can see that conditions have greatly improved. I shall began by educating the young and listen to Meg’s thoughts on all matters of import.”

“But childbirth was so dangerous,” Lucy added.

“I was hoping you might help me with that, Lucy,” Meg spoke up. “If you could get your hands on a few hormone implants, then that could guarantee me three years between children.”

“I’ll see what I can do. How many do you need?” Lucy asked. She was a nurse at a Sexual Health Clinic.

“Would five be too much? Better too many than too few.”

“No, I think that could be passed off as a mistake in stock taking or something. Besides, they’re hardly class A drug.” 

“Thank you. And I’m going to try and take some medical and chemistry text books back,” Meg added. “We can improve things like disease by making simple drugs, and teaching people how to keep conditions sanitary, pasteurisation, food preservation, sterilisation, that kind of thing.”

 “But if you do that, you’ll change history,” Ruth argued.

“For the better. Given the present we live in, can things really get any worse?” Meg asked.

“So what happens now?” Matt asked.

“I’ll hand in my notice at work on Monday, then I have to work two weeks out. I also thought I’d transfer the house into Ruth and Matt’s names and when it sells, you can split the profits. Or keep it and rent it out for some extra income.”

“Shouldn’t you go back now?” Lucy asked.

“Two weeks shall not my kingdom undo,” Hal replied.

“Things move much slower in the past,” Meg added. “It takes nearly a week to get a message to France, and the same again for a reply.”

“Mum always said you were born too late,” Matt said softly. “Remember, Ruth, with her head buried in all those Jane Austen and Jean Plaidy books, she always said Meggie was better suited to the Regency era.”

“She did,” Ruth replied, her stance softening somewhat. “She used to say that she’d never marry if she didn’t stop pining over Mr Darcy.”

“You had his poster on your wall, remember?” Matt asked.

“Remember? I still have it!” Meg laughed. “And I still have every available version on DVD.”

Hal was looking from one to the other, trying to understand the conversation. “Mr Darcy was, what did you call it, an ex?”

“Mr Darcy is fictional,” Meg said, taking his hand and giving him a tender smile. “I’ll put it on for you to watch while I’m at work one day.”

“So we’re believing this story, are we?” Ruth asked.

“I don’t see why not?” Matt replied with a smile, “If nothing else, it’ll keep me entertained while I wait for my draft papers.”

***

Meg returned home to find Hal sprawled on her sofa, his head buried in a book on the history of political theory, a massive, 600 page university textbook. He spent most of his days either reading, or ordering more books on her amazon account. She was surprised by his aptitude to the internet, having expected him to be a technophobe but although he didn’t understand her explanations (which might be her fault) it hadn’t proved a hindrance when using her computer.

She was also pleased by the reading he was doing. The books he chose were mostly of a sociological bent, covering topics such as politics, religion, equality and justice.

In the background he had Taylor Swift playing on her PM3 player and she had to smile as she thought of Henry V listening to pop music. She had introduced him to modern music gently, with people like Ellie Goulding, Sam Smith, Adele and John Legend but within a few hours he had mastered her iPod and found Imagine Dragons, Meghan Trainor, Taylor Swift and Bruno Mars, among others. It seemed he preferred more upbeat tunes, and she only had to imagine him humming _Shake it Off_ at his court to improve her mood.

“Did you have a good day?” she asked as she bent to kiss him on her way to the kitchen.

“I am greatly intrigued by this idea of democracy, however I fail to see how it can be implemented in my time.”

“Maybe it can’t yet, but you can increase parliament’s size and powers so you can more easily address your people’s problems.”

“Hmm,” he went back to reading for a while, then slipped the bookmark in once he finished the chapter and went to find her in the kitchen.

“Thou appears tired.”

“Long day,” she admitted. “Tea?”

“Please.”

“The solicitor called, the transfer documents for the house should come through in a few days.”

“Come hither.” He turned her around and pulled her against him. “Thou art working too hard.”

“It’s not that, Hal. It’s the war. Everyone is affected by it and the atmosphere just feels so… bleak and oppressive.”

“Come now, Meg, you know that everything shall be restored once we return.”

“But we won’t know, will we? The moment we go back, we won’t know what the future holds, because everything we do might change it.”

“In faith though, is that not best? Too much insight into one’s future could corrupt, or make us conceited and overconfident. No, all we can do is our best, which is all anyone can ask of us.”

“I don’t know about you,” she sighed, “but I think I’m ready to go.”

“And I. Thy books arrived today.”

She had ordered chemistry textbooks and a couple of family/home health handbooks, which she would look through and pick the most helpful to take back with her. She had also ordered books on organic farming, hoping for tips on raising efficient and disease free crops, without the use of modern chemicals, which she wouldn’t have access to in the past.

For his part, Hal had begun to speak of the possibility of educating the population, and at least teaching children the basics of reading, writing and simple maths, while Meg suggested adding basic hygiene, sanitation and health tips.

Already while she should be working, she was thinking of how to word lessons on things such as pasteurisation, meat preparation and the prevention of diseases. They had to be brief as printing was expensive, yet also comprehensive and easily explained, so the lessons were not misunderstood.

She pulled away and smiled up at him.

“How about you, how are you enjoying modern life?”

“I took a walk this morning. You have an abundance of small dogs in this time,” he said with a confused smile. “Do you have many problems with rats?”

“No, they’re pets, kept for companionship rather than ratting,” she explained as she made the tea.

“Thy customs are most strange, although I will admit that thy food and drink greatly exceeds the quality of our time.”

“Hang on, didn’t royalty used to keep exotic animals at the Tower of London? What were they if not pets?”

“One can hardly pet a tiger.”

“True,” she agreed.

They took their drinks into her living room and settled on the couch.

“I confess, I will miss your soft furnishings,” he said as she cuddled into him. “Sprung mattresses especially.”

“I’ll miss central heating,” she admitted. “And hot running water.”

“And toilets. An ingenious invention.”

“Eh, I’ll miss the toilet paper more,” Meg countered. “How many roles of Andrex do you think we can carry back with us?” she teased.

“Not nearly enough. Art thou certain thou are ready to go return with me. It shall mean much hardship for thee”

She gasped. “ _You’re_ the one who started lamenting what you’ll miss!”

“Ah, but thou takes all this for granted while for me, tis but a pleasant dream.”

She smiled tenderly. “As long as I can take you for granted, I can do without everything else.”

“Always, my love. And I thee?”

“Of course.” She grinned. “Hey, is this a proposal?”

“Proposal of what?”

“Marriage.”

“I thought that had been decided already but if thou wishes, I shall ask.”

“Wouldn’t you ask normally?”

“I would usually ask thy father but since thy parents are no longer living, and I have a feeling you might reproach me something fierce were I were to ask thy brother, I shall ask you directly.” He put his tea down and got onto one knee. “I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, I love you, Meg, for thou hast bewitched me, mind, body and soul.” He held his hand out. “And so what say you, fair lady, wilt thou have me?”

She put her hand in his. “Yes.” A hand hold wasn’t enough, so Meg threw her arms around him and held tightly. “A thousand times, yes!”

Hal grinned. “I shall announce it as soon as we return and we will shall be wed at the first opportunity.”

Meg loosened her grip just enough to look at him. “Let’s celebrate, and make the most of bed springs while we can.”

Hal laughed and jumped to his feet, picking Meg up in a bridal carry.

“You have the best ideas, my dearest.”

***

On the Friday when they were to return, Hal and Meg met her siblings near Westminster Abbey to share breakfast and say goodbye. They had seen each other regularly since Meg and Hal revealed the truth, and just yesterday at the solicitor’s office to sign the transfer the deeds to change the ownership of Meg’s house into her siblings’ names.

Hal could tell that while they were going along with everything and were curious, like he hadn’t, they didn’t truly believe Meg was about to leave them.

Hal and Meg had a backpack full of the books they wanted to take, Hal had brought tomes on politics and justice, while Meg’s choices were more along the lines of ‘how to’ guides, family medicine and a book on Catholicism. Her conversion would be the biggest barrier to their union but Meg had been doing her homework, reading as much on the faith as she could.

Given how much she had learned, Hal was certain that the Archbishop of Canterbury would allow Meg to have her first communion and confirmation with little trouble, teaching her himself if necessary since in return, Hal could promise to delay the bill that parliament wanted passed, to disendow the Church.

Hal was dressed in the garments he had arrived in, although his dagger was stored in the backpack they were taking with them. Meg was dressed similarly to the first time he had seen her, in modern yet modest clothes.

The meal was awkward and discussion stilted, while the short walk to the abbey afterwards was almost silent. Meg hugged and said goodbye to her siblings on the street, since the atmosphere inside might be stifling, and Meg began to cry.

“I love you,” she told them both, and they assured her the same and once that was done, they headed into the ambulatory, where they chair was kept.

Meg hugged her brother and sister once more, and Matt made Hal promise to take care of her, then after waiting for a lull in traffic, he and Meg climbed the small platform and Hal  sat down, with Meg on his lap.

They were both anxious, having no reason to believe that this would work, only hope and faith that whatever had brought them here, would return them.

Hal bowed his head and said a small payer and when he opened his eyes, they were alone.

“It worked,” Hal whispered.

“We’re home,” she added.

Hal turned his head to look at her.

“Home,” he agreed.

***

“My Lord, where hast thou been?” York demanded as Meg and Hal entered the palace. “You went to the Abbey to pray and that was the last anyone saw of thee! Everyone has been going mad with worry.”

“My apologies if I worried you, cousin, but when we returned from France I had an epiphany of sorts. Whilst praying, I realised that Meg was meant to be my wife and I had to go to her, immediately. It was rash and thoughtless of me but I was suddenly overcome with the burning need to bring the Lady Meg home.”

York’s posture had softened as Hal spoke but whether that was from relief that his friend was safe, or his words, Meg couldn’t tell.

“Thou art to be married?” York smiled.

“We are,” Hal took her hand. “I know that with Meg by my side, England will be unstoppable. Our kingdom shall be a realm that celebrates all that is good and right and just. A beacon of greatness in this oft dark world.”

“That does indeed sound grand.” York nodded. “And if God gave you this epiphany, then none shall dare question it. Shall I inform the Archbishop of Canterbury?”

“Please do, for we must speak with him urgently.”

“Welcome home, Sire.”

“Tis good to be home, cousin. I assume the Lady Meg’s things are still in her room?”

“Everything is as you left it, Sire.”

“Good.” He embraced York. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to have you back.”

***

It took six weeks to be married. Six weeks during which Meg could not be alone with Hal without an attendant. She studied day and night until the Archbishop was pleased with her. The archbishop wanted to know her existing faith but assuring him that she was Christian wasn’t enough. She could hardly say that she was Church of England (in this time he almost literally _was_ the church of England) and so thinking on her feet, she told him she was CofE. Or Ceovy, as he came to call it.

Despite her natural inclination to question and debate what she was taught, she didn’t not allow herself that luxury. Once she was Queen she could question the status quo but for now, she kept her own council on the things she objected to.

Besides, she knew she would not change this man’s mind and would only succeed in hindering her own plans to marry Hal, and her duty as Queen was to the country and its people, not to the church. Her conscience could live with her silence but her soul could not thrive without Hal.

Who or whatever it was that brought her to Hal, did so for a reason, and she had faith that as long as she did her best, only good could come from their union.

Luckily in these times, weddings were simple affairs, even royal weddings and given how modest Hal was, their wedding was far less grand than some of his predecessors.

After the wedding, Hal and Meg slowly walked back to the castle,stopping to speak to those who had turned out to watch the royal couple. Hal thanked them for their well wishes and they looked upon him with reverence, much as they always had but now, also with respect.

By the afternoon, although the feast continued within and outside the castle walls, Hal and Meg were free to consummate their union, although the revelry, could still be heard as they lay sated for a while, and Meg laughed.

“Something amuses thee?” Hal asked.

Meg raised her head and propped it up on her elbow. “I was just thinking about the first night I met you,” she admitted.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t like you much,” she admitted.

“Say tis not so!” he gasped, teasing her.

“You were a jerk!” she laughed. “Charming but still a jerk. I remember watching you tease poor Francis and I thought you a rather cruel bully.”

“And now, what dost thou think of me?”

“I think you have the common touch.”

He frowned.

“The ability to talk with commoners,” she explained. “I think your time among them helped you understand them, no? And in understanding them, you’ll better know what they need and how to best rule them.”

He looked slightly shamed. “That is one way to think of it but I confess, I was simply trying to enjoy myself.”

“That kind of rebellion is normal in my time,” she assured him. “It’s a way for children to break away from their parents and forge their own identities. For what it’s worth, the experience has done you good, for this afternoon I saw you speak with simple farriers and barmen, as easily as with the lords in your court.”

“And pray tell, how did someone with this common touch, find himself such an uncommon wife?”

“Don’t ask me,” Meg held her hand up. “Maybe because when I was younger, I used to have a crush on Prince Harry and the universe misunderstood.”

“A crush?”

“A… he took my fancy.”

“Ah,” he grinned. “It seems thou has a penchant for royal blood.”

“Maybe once, but King Harry is better than Prince Harry anyway. Besides, I love you, your nobility and your good heart, not your title. Although I have to admit, that beard you’ve grown helped your case a lot.”

 Hal shook his head as if exasperated with her, but he was smiling.

“Then I shall know exactly how to blackmail you in the future.”

Meg gasped and clutched her heart theatrically. “You wouldn’t!”

“I would.”

“Then if you shave the beard, I shall shave my head.”

He laughed. “One thing is certain, life shall never be dull with thee around, Meg.”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “You’re a king, you can handle it.”

“And thou art a queen, so does that mean you can handle me again,” he murmured seductively.

“We haven’t shared a bed in over four weeks.” Meg reached under the covers and grasped his length. “I’m more than ready for round two.”

“Then I shall indulge thee, my Queen.”

   
 


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Chorus:** Recently voted by the public as greatest King in history, there is no denying the fantastical leaps in education, justice and democracy made under Henry V.

He introduced Sunday schools and made education compulsory for all children under the age of 8, when such a thing was such a thing was unthinkable. The brightest boys and girls, were then offered further education at the three Royal boarding schools he set up, and many of those boys and girls went on to make great contributions to society.

He also brought in what is considered to be the first minimum wage, requiring landlords to provide well-kept housing for their tenants, and giving tenants their first rights.

He further increased the powers of parliament, that he might better serve the needs of his people, he introduced an early version of trial by jury, and he passed the first equality laws anywhere in the world. Indeed just two years before his death, in 1479, educated peasants were allowed to vote in parliamentary elections for the very first time.

His wife was no shrinking violet either, and was said to raise many eyebrows by wearing male attire when skirts were inconvenient. That Henry treated her as his equal was also seen as heretic by some, leading to many arguments with the Church and attempts to depose him. Attempted rebellions were generally short lived as Henry was a popular king with all his people, yet it was this conflict which led Henry to instigate the first separation of church and state laws.

Queen Margaret also encouraged the medical professions and introduced the first concepts of sanitation and hygiene to the masses, as well as, it is said, creating the first antibiotics. At her edict, each town was required to have one physician per 2,000 and one nurse cum midwife per 500 head of population. She also invented and promoted the concept of birth control, first charting the menstrual cycle and inventing first the spermicides to be used with sea sponges, as well as further attempts to make what are widely considered to be the first diaphragms, using a variety of materials.

The country thrived under their joint rule and it became known as the Period of the Enlightenment, and quickly spread throughout Europe, although here too, the King put his knowledge to good use, using the negotiations to force peace treaties with neighbouring lands, in return for sharing the medicines and healthcare knowledge he, his wife and his people had recorded. Thus he ushered in an era of peace in Europe which lasted for over three hundred years. 

Many have speculated on how such giant leaps were made in such unenlightened times but there were other mysteries which have attracted equal speculation over the centuries.

Many say the fact that Hal died just three days after his beloved wife, is proof that they both died of the same malady, while the romantic insist that he died of a broken heart.

Then there is the prescient tales of future lands, found in the hand written stories Queen Margaret wrote for her five children, which many have been described as more accurate than Nostradamus.

Until this year however, there was one even larger mystery, which had been speculated over since Henry’s death, namely that on the anniversary of his death in 2015, and not a day before, he requested that his tomb in Westminster Abbey be opened. Such an unusual request had never before been heard of, nor since.

Although many had examined the tomb and it was x-rayed in 2001, the mystery of this request remained until November this year, when the tomb was finally opened.

Some say that the letter from Queen Margaret to her family, and the modern text books found enclosed in the same small trunk, which was laid to rest alongside Henry, are nothing more than an elaborate hoax.

Others claim that it explains the sudden appearance of Margaret, for whom no birth records have ever been found, as well as the mysterious disappearance of Henry for two weeks, after his return from France, when no trace of him could be found and all talk of sightings proved false. And of course, if she were from the future, it would explain the oddly accurate stories that she wrote for her children.

Despite examination by the world foremost archaeologists, few can agree if the tomes are real or elaborate forgeries.  Many hope that an examination of Queen Margaret’s DNA, bones and teeth might reveal from whence and possibly even, when she came, but parliament has yet to give permission for her tomb beside Henry to be opened, and opposition to disturbing her remains is fierce.

On the matter of her origins, I have no great wisdom to bestow, for both sides are vehement in their positions and never the twain shall meet. There is nothing I can say that will heal this rift, and thus I leave it to every reader to decide the truth of this tale for themselves.

 


End file.
